Draconis Sanguen
by Meridyn
Summary: Reappearing at Hogwarts after two years missing for 7th yr, Draco is ready to show everyone just what he's made of. With a past to haunt him, a future unknown, and new emotions for the 'enemy' will Draco be able to prove himself? Slash. HP/DM
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**:  Harry Potter and other characters belong to J.K. Rowling.  This author makes no claim on them or any other part of the Harry Potter sensation; only the original characters, places, and plot belong to this author. 

**ooOoOoo******

**WARNINGS**:  Alternate Universe.  Slash of the Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Variety, but It hasn't appeared yet.  And some original characters but for nothing more than the people at the school which will only be here for a few chapters.

**Alternate Universe**:  This means that this story does not move with the flow of the novels by JK Rowling.  Instead, this story picks up after the forth year, totally forgetting the fifth book.  So nothing that happens in the Fifth novel, Order of the Phoenix, will affect this story. 

**Slash**:  For those who do not know what this means, it means a homosexual pairing.  This story will have romance between two males.  Therefore, physical expression of this attraction in any form may appear, from kissing to sex.  If this bothers you in any fashion, please turn back now.  You have been warned and it has been explained. 

**Pairings**:  DM/HP; RW/HG; Others unknown.

**ooOoOoo******

**..::Draconis Sanguen::..**

Prologue

The cries of a newborn child shook the silence of the old manor.  The aching wails haunted the child's parents day and night.  In a dark nursery in the west wing of the massive home, a young woman clutched the pale and quivering form to her.  Her pale blonde hair shimmered silver in the moonlight.  Closing her tearful dark blue eyes, she slowly rocked to the tormented child, hoping to soothe his constant cries. 

Miles below the child's room, a single man paced back and forth in the dark dungeons of his family home.  His pale blonde hair was tied away from his face, his stone grey eyes narrowing at every sound.  Dark circles surrounded his pained eyes, wakeful hours comforting his newborn son clearly showing through his usual emotionless mask.

A quiet pop sounded in the room as a caped figure arrived.  Relief washed over the pacing man as he rushed to bow at the feet of his lord.  "My Lord, thank you for coming so quickly."

"Rise, Lucius, and tell me what it is that distresses you so."

"It is my son, Lord.  He was just born a few days ago, but there is something wrong.  The birth was very easy on my wife, but my child is deathly sick.  No one knows what it is that causes his weakness and no one can do anything to save him.  The best mediwizards have seen to him, I have called experts far and wide, but no one can help my son."

"Yes," the shadowed man said thoughtfully.  "I have heard of your predicament from others.  Each of them has expressed the thought that you should kill this child and produce another heir for your line.  After all, your child is weak and there is no room for weakness."

Anger flared in Lucius's silvery eyes.  "Forgive me my lord, but he is my son.  I will not kill my heir.  When he was born, he was only given hours to live, but he has lived for days.  He is strong, if not in body, but in soul."

A dark eyebrow rose beneath the shadows of the robes at his servant's words.  Ignoring the bemused smirk that wished to show itself on his emotionless countenance, the man merely nodded to the blonde.  "Take me to him, Lucius."

The two men silently moved through the dark corridors of the great mansion, moving until they stood before an ornately carved mahogany door.  Silently, it opened; displaying the blonde woman as she silently rocked the tiny blonde infant.  Entering the room, their ears were assaulted with the painful wails of the boy.

A silent gasp escaped the woman's pale lips as she viewed the shadowing visitor.  "L-Lord Voldemort!" she exclaimed, her voice remaining a quiet whisper. 

Ignoring the woman's outburst, he gestured for the child to be lain before him.  Immediately, his orders were followed.  The child was very small, delicate even.  Deathly pale skin stretched thinly over the small frame, veins and tissue visible through the sheer outer layer.  A few wisps of pale blonde hair curled upon the child's head, so flaxen that the shimmering strands barely stood out from the pale skin.  Looking at the child's face, the Dark Lord was slightly disturbed to see that the child's eyes were closed, as they had been since birth.  Only small gaps in the eyelids allowed for the babe's crystalline tears to pour from his unseen eyes.

Briefly looking up at the desperate parents, Voldemort slowly formulated a plan.  He could tell that the child's willpower was what had kept the child alive for so long, the infant's health was very close to death.  But the child's spirit stood out most to the Lord, overwhelming him.  A smirk played upon his lips as he removed a small vial containing a metallic silver liquid from the folds of his robes. 

"I can help you, Lucius.  With this simple vial, your child will not only be well, but hold immense power.  I can give your son life, but there is something you must do in return."  Seeing the hopeful looks the parents held in their eyes, he continued.  "This child will possess more power than you could dream of with this.  And in return for saving his life, you will give him to me.  He will be my heir, Lucius, and rule beside me.  That is all I ask in return."

Without a single thought of consequence, Lucius bowed, Narcissa doing the same.  "Thank you my Lord.  He will be your heir, I promise, just . . . please, save my son."

With a wave of his wand, a tube immediately extended from the vial to the child's arm.  In silence, the three adults watched as the pure silver liquid made its way into the child's bloodstream, the foreign substance mixing with the infant's weak blood cells.  As the last of the substance disappeared into the child's body, Voldemort pocketed the vial.  Moving to stand over the innocent child, he withdrew his wand, waving it over the prone form.  Quietly, the words '_draconis__ sanguen coniunctio_' [1] echoed through the room.  Silver light enveloped the child, whose gentle wails of pain escalated into tortured screams.

Narcissa clutched her husbands arm desperately as she watched her son endure his pain.  Tears pricked at her deep blue eyes, threatening to pour down her face.  Her son had been sentenced far too early a death, but this man was saving him.  He would endure the pain in order to live.  Hope and relief blossomed through her as her child's screams were silenced and silver flashed through the room.

For the first time, the infant's eyes opened, gaining his first look at the world around him.  Midnight blue eyes stared at the three figures that watched him so intently.  Slowly, the dark blue orbs swirled with silver, until the entire iris was a silvery grey.  His skin had retained the pale shade, loosing its transparent nature and taking on a healthy glow.  His silvery blonde hair shimmered in the candle light, a more noticeable amount covering the infants head.  Tilting his head slightly to the side, the infant stared at the shadowing figure of the man before him.  A small gurgle escaped his lips as they formed his first smile . . . right at the Dark Lord himself.

Narcissa's face lit up with joy at her son's new state.  Tears traced their way down her porcelain face, unashamed to show themselves for they were of happiness.  Even Lucius could not hold back the large grin that lit up his face.  The two overjoyed parents immediately moved to the happy infant.  Narcissa immediately swept the child into her arms, cradling his tender form to her.

A smile of pure satisfaction appeared upon Voldemort's face as he surveyed the jubilant Narcissa.  Turning to Lucius, he placed his hand on his follower's shoulder.  Lucius turned to him, his gray eyes shining with pride and joy.  "Thank you my Lord, thank you.  I can not tell you what this means to me . . ."

Voldemort quickly silenced his follower.  "Do not babble like an infant Lucius.  Just keep your end of our arrangement.  He will be trained in our ways, molded to our art.  He is my heir, Lucius, as well as yours.  He will give the name Malfoy an entirely new meaning."

"Of course, my Lord.  Thank you again."

Musing, Voldemort continued as if Lucius had not spoken.  "Your son, you named him Draco did you not?" Seeing the father's nod, he moved on.  "Quite amusing that blood from this child's namesake is what saved him."

Lucius merely stared at his master, shocked at this new revelation.  The substance in the vial had been dragon's blood, and the spell had actually welded the child's weak blood to that of the dragon.  Looking up, he tentatively asked his Lord.  "Will there be any side effects?" [2]

Pulling a sheet of parchment from his robes, Voldemort passed it on to Lucius.  "This is a potion your son must take so that none of those side effects present themselves.  Have Snape produce this for you.  He will need it every day this month, then once a month until he is eleven years old.  After his eleventh birthday, he must consume this potion once a year, on the anniversary of this day, to keep the balance.  Should he miss the potion even once, the imbalance will have to be perfected . . . but you will not allow this Lucius, will you?"

"O-Of course not, my Lord.  I will not fail you."  Lucius said his head bowed as he placed the parchment deep within the folds of his own wizarding robes. 

"I will deliver a copy of this potion to Severus tonight.  He will bring it to you tomorrow." [3] Moving out of the room, he paused at the doorway and glanced back.  "Lucius, I would suggest you keep that copy of the potion safe.  Severus has been rather . . . uncooperative as of late.  I would hate to see my heir left without his potion all because of your stupidity if something were to happen to our potions master . . ." With that, he quickly exited the room, dis-apparating from the manor immediately.

Lucius moved to stand beside his wife, admiring the child that had been saved from certain death.  Not even Albus Dumbledore could save the child.  He had called for the older wizard after loosing so much hope.  However, he had only added onto their despair, claiming there was nothing that could be done.  Yet, the proof lay within his wife's pale arms.  His son was alive.  With a soft kiss to the infant's forehead, Lucius left the nursery, disappearing into his study.

Narcissa quietly sang to her now healthy son, gently rocking her infant.  She was enamored in him, the perfection that was her son.  Tightening her hold on him, her deep blue eyes stared into the dark night, watching as the snow fell upon the manor grounds.  Her new year had been shadowed with the constant assurances of her tiny son's death, now it was strengthened by their Lord.  He had saved her precious child. . .

Outside, dainty snowflakes fell upon the British grounds, coating the world in a layer of pure white.  Pure . . . so unlike so much that would happen so soon in their worlds.  But for that night, the Malfoy family fell into blissful ignorance, celebrating that their son would live, blessed with power and the mark of Voldemort.

Only a few months short of two years later, their lives were thrown into disarray as the child of James and Lily Potter destroyed Voldemort, banishing him from their world.  Angered at the fact that a mere child had defeated the Dark Lord, Lucius thrust himself and his resources into escaping time in Azkaban.  Unsure what to do without Voldemort's guidance, Lucius continued as he could, reining over the remaining death eaters, waiting for the day that Voldemort would return to them and his son take his place as the Heir.

Thirteen years later, the day that Lucius had waiting so long for passed, and the dark cloud of oppression and hate once more fell upon the wizarding world. 

**ooOoOoo******

END NOTES:

[1] _draconis__ sanguen coniunctio_:  The spell that Voldemort uses to bind Draco's blood to the blood of the dragon.  The Latin translations are as follows:  _draconis_:  serpent or dragon; _sanguen_:  blood; _coniunctio_:  to join, to bind, to come together, (to join by blood).  Together, this literally commands the dragon blood to join with Draco's.

[2] Albus Dumbledore discovered the twelve uses of dragon blood, but in this, Voldemort puts it to another use.  The spell fuses the blood of a dragon to Draco's blood.  Thus, the strength of the dragon's blood/genes revives the infant.  The change in the eyes is largely due to this.  However, the other side effects, without the potion, are left unknown.

[3] It has never been truly said what Voldemort was like before his downfall.  I know that he is evil and many may say that he is out of character, but Lucius is an inner circle Death Eater, very close to Voldemort.  It is because of this that he helps Lucius and saves Draco, plus the fact that he will need someone to rein after him, his Heir. 

In taking the potion to Snape, Voldemort is allowed to check up on the potions master, who was under suspicion of Voldemort as a spy towards the end. 


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter and other characters belong to J.K. Rowling.  This author makes no claim on them or any other part of the Harry Potter sensation; only the original characters, places, and plot belong to this author. 

**ooOoOoo******

**WARNING**:  Alternate universe.  Some original characters.  Future slash pairing, meaning in a male homosexual relationship.  This won't show up for a while, but the warning is still here.  If you don't like it, then why are you reading it? 

**ooOoOoo******

**..::Draconis Sanguen::..**

Chapter 1

Anger swept through his veins as he laid there, a prone form on the train's compartment floor.  Muttering to himself, Draco tried to fight his way free of the curses as he had so many dark ones before.  Shimmering silver light surrounded him as his anger and frustration rose.  It was never meant to happen like that.  He had done as he was expected to, played to the expectations of everyone.  Of his father, of Potter, of Dumbledore, of the entire Wizarding Community.  And what happened?  He had been cursed.  The Weasel, his brothers, the Mudblood and Potter had cursed him. 

Enveloping his prone form, the silvery light reaches its brilliant crescendo before fading, leaving no trace of its existence behind.  Shaken, Draco managed to stand once more, the marks of the hexes no longer covering him.  Confused, he slightly wondered just how he had broken free of their curses.  Mentally berating himself for not deflecting the curses, Draco quickly picked up his wand and moved to his fallen 'friends'.  After freeing both Crabbe and Goyle, who ran from the compartment as quickly as possible, Draco took a seat by the window rather than following the other two boys. 

When he had entered that compartment, intent on teasing the infamous Harry Potter and his friends, he had never expected retaliation.  He knew that he had carried it a bit too far, though he would never willingly admit that to anyone.  He was Draco Malfoy, son of an inner circle Death Eater, godson of a Death Eater turned spy, and the presumed follower in their footsteps.  He had been expected from birth that he would follow that path.  He had been trained in the dark arts since he was old enough to walk.  Tutored in potions, lectured in the history and use of dark magic, taught volumes of dark curses, trained in concealing magical use from the Ministry.  Everything that could be done to mold his young mind to the Dark Arts had been done.  Shuddering, Draco realigned his thoughts from the things that had haunted him for so much of his life.  He supposed that since he had been trained only to think for the Dark side, he had grown curious of what it was that his father so opposed of . . . the light.

Slowly, the blonde haired Slytherin changed out of his school robes, replacing them with a pair of smoky grey dress pants and a white silk button up dress shirt.  He knew that when he joined the muggles at the station, he would have to blend in with the non magic.  Sighing, he made his way, retrieving his trunk and his owl from his compartment.  Replacing the robes into the trunk, his mind soon wandered back to thoughts of what his summer lesson would be about . . . or if now, with Voldemort back in power, it would be more than a lesson, but an experience that could haunt him for a lifetime. 

Draco was quickly shaken from his reverie by the snarling voice of Severus Snape, Potions master and Professor at Hogwarts.  Exiting the compartment, Draco quickly found his godfather in an argument with the train's conductor, though Draco could never really classify it as an argument.  It was more like Severus was glaring and insulting a cowering man.  Smirking, Draco quickly announced his presence.

"Honestly Severus, I can't take you anywhere." 

Draco's eyes quickly scanned the Professor's attire.  He was so used to seeing the man in his dark billowing robes; he often forgot just what the man looked like in muggle dress.  Still maintaining the dark colors, he was dressed in rich black dress pants, a dark green dress shirt donning over his well shaped form.  Draco knew just what his godfather held beneath the dark cloaks, greasy hair, and cruel looks.  He knew just what the man had suffered, endured, and worked for and against.  Even now, with his hair hanging loose no longer carrying its greasy look, and his bat-like robes gone, when no one else would have been able to recognize him, Draco saw the tortured soul that was trapped behind layers of bitter hostility.

Snape quickly turned to face his godson.  "There you are!  I've been waiting for you.  You know that you're supposed to meet me on the platform.  I don't know why you even bother riding this thing.  We could have easily left from Hogsmeade.  All you ever do here is gang up on Potter.  A bit old for that now aren't you?"

Ignoring Severus, Draco quickly walked from the train, followed by his godfather who was still ranting to him.  Once off the train, the two companionably walked from the platform, pushing their way through the crowds of muggles.  "Sorry about that Sev.  Crabbe, Goyle, and I were . . . slightly indisposed."   He said, choosing his words very carefully, yet, this did not fool the Potions Master.

"I suppose you were riling up the golden boy himself then?"  He asked one dark eye brow rose questioningly.  "I take it that it didn't go as you planned."  He said with a deep smirk playing upon his countenance.

Sighing, Draco's posture immediately slouched.  "No, not quite.  No matter what we've done in the past, this is the first time he's actually taken action against us.  And in such a . . . violent manner."  Straightening his silk shirt, he regained his proper posture, walking with his usual air of confidence.  "Oh well, the look on his face was more than enough for me.  As for the curses . . . I can always return the favor later."

Severus regarded his godson with a tight smile.  Shaking his head at the boy's antics, the two exited the station, immediately met with the familiar sight of the Rolls Royce.  Draco parents were never the ones to pick him from the station, instead, a car was sent to retrieve him and his belongings.  This time, Severus was accompanying him, called to the manor by Lucius. 

The two rode together in companionable silence, occasionally exchanging a few words.  For the most part, Draco merely stared out the window, contemplating the many things that had begun to plague his young mind.  Voldemort was back, there was no use in denying the obvious truth.  And with his return, came a number of changes.  His father, the leader of the remaining Death Eaters, would once again return to the Dark Lords side. 

And of course, a decision would be made. 

Draco was shaken from his dark thoughts as the luxurious car came to a standstill by a large fountain in the middle of a small quaint town.  Silently, the two males exited the car as the driver removed the trunk from the rear.  Draco, holding his eagle owl's cage, silently lifted one end of his trunk, the other picked up by his godfather, and headed off, bidding the driver farewell, ignoring the curious look upon his face. 

Making their way to the west side of the town, Draco looked about, taking in the refreshing sight around him.  It was rare he saw the village; one that looked as if it had came from a muggle fairy tale book with its small shops next to each other, villagers greeting one another, each as if they were best friends.  There was always something soothing for the young teen to watch, knowing that at this moment, happiness did exist, even in such a basic form as this.

Arriving by the water side, watching as the sun's light glinted off of the water, Draco looked about, searching for any prying eyes as they approached a large ancient tree.  Similar to the spell around the entrance to Platform 9 and 3/4, no one would actually notice when they approached the giant tree, instead, their attention attracted elsewhere.  Once under its vast branches, Draco's left hand, balled into a fist, met with the rough bark, his signet ring matching into the engraving of the ancient tree just as a key fit into a keyhole.

Much like Hogwarts, Malfoy Manor was an uncharted, un-plotable place, surrounded by protection wards that rivaled, if not exceeded, those at the Wizarding School.  There were very few ways to enter the castle, and even less for those who did not carry the Malfoy blood through their veins.   His signet ring was a key to many entrances; however, the ring was adapted to only fit upon the hand of a Malfoy.  For those such as ministry officials, aurors, and other random visitors, they would merely follow the directions on the Malfoy record at the ministry.  This would lead them to a stately mansion just outside of London.  However, this was not their home, but a doorway to the Manor.  After identification, one that was linked to the Manor, the doors would open as a direct portal to their true home, no one ever noticing that they were not inside of the mansion outside of London.

Lucius Malfoy was no fool.  With a family history as dark as it was, the spells surrounding the family home as old as that, if not older, the head of the house had ensured that the true location of the manor be hidden from anyone not of their family.  Severus Snape and Voldemort were perhaps the only two exceptions to this rule, being part of the few who knew of the uncharted island that the castle was situated on.

Almost no one could apparate into or out of Malfoy Manor.  Only a few spots within the dark dungeons of the castle could this be done.  Yet, the wards of the manor were modified to identify the magic of the residents of the home, allowing them the sole permission for apparition no matter their spot within the manor.  A Portkey could only be used in a few instances, all depending on who had designed the key.  If the magic used to alter the object as the transport vessel was one of the residents, the Portkey would work.  However, if it were not, and it was merely another wizard spelling the object for a Portkey to the manor, access was most certainly denied, leaving the wizard with one or more body parts no longer in existence or unable to function.  As for the Floo network . . . the Manor was in no way attached to it.  It was simply not done within the Malfoy Castle.  However, a small house owned by the Malfoys, just outside of the town Draco was currently in, was floo compatible.  However, this too was lesser knowledge and of even lesser use.  It was rarely used, only upon occasion that one would go from the Manor to the cottage, flooing to their desired location. 

As an opening occurred within the tree, a set of spiral stairs gracing them with their presence the two moved within the vast trunk of the tree.  As the door closed, torches immediately sprung to light, their silvery flames flickering in the unknown wind.  Quietly, Draco cast a lightening and shrinking spell on his trunk, pocketing his luggage casually, carrying his owl's cage in his free hand.  The tree was a root of Malfoy Manor, which immediately granted his ability to use magic without any knowledge to the ministry.  Such was the benefit of such an ancient and stately family home.

Moving down the stairs, the two found themselves at the familiar sight of a single ornate boat.  Once loaded, the ship moved with speed and grace over the dark waters of the underground cavern.  The cavern was underneath miles of sea water, deep underneath the very water that lay outside of the small village.  Every drip of water echoed through the hidden site, magnifying the soft sound to echo through its dark depths.  Shadows danced, spurned on the by silvery light of the torches that the cavern walls bore.  The water, impenetrable to light, of unknown depth, barely moved as the small boat moved across its surface.  Draco had never asked just what the black waters held, nor did he desire to know. 

Draco faintly remembered a time when his father had stood at the waters edge with him.  He had been merely three years old, a miniature clone of his father, doing a perfect imitation of all that his family had stood for.  Of course, the arrogance and other characteristics had been tinged his childish manner.  With shining silver eyes, he had watched as his father enlarged a package he had carried from the manor to the water.  Removing the paper, Draco had seen his father extract a large bone that still had fresh red meat hanging from its solid white surface.  "Now watch me son.  I will only show you this once.  Never enter this water, lest you find yourself like this bone."  Casting it into the black waters, Draco had watched with horrid fascination as the waters moved, tentacles and teeth appearing from no where, fighting over the single scrap in the water before disappearing into the dark depths, with only a few small bubbles of air to acknowledge its existence.

As the boat met with the harsh surface at the other end of the cavern, the two men exited the ship.  More torches lined the walls of the stone walls at both the base as well as the round stairwell that the two ascended upon, ignoring the panel at the base that would lead to the dungeons of the manor.  Once at the top of the stairs, Draco silently walked over to the cavern wall, once more matching his signet ring into an engraving.  A large stone panel slid to the side, immediately opening its door to a well lit room.  Draco walked through the passageway, placing his ring on the other side of the entrance, gesturing to his godfather to enter.  Once Snape had moved through the doorway, Draco allowed his hand to drop, the door closing behind them, blending into an ordinary wall once more. 

A small smile tugged on the corners of Draco's lips as his godfather wrapped an arm companionably around his neck, the two of them exiting the room through a rotating panel.  Immediately they were greeted with the sight of the vast library, over three stories of bookshelves, holding the largest collection of wizarding publications known to the wizarding world.  It held a copy of every book in existence, even if this was not known to those outside of their circle.  Anything, dark or light, was held in its vast alcoves, always ready to be explored.  Hanging the owl's cage on the large hook in the dark recesses of the room, Draco opened the cage door.  His large eagle owl silently stared at him before moving out of its enclosure, moving to the cavernous ceilings and out of one of the many owl ports that were in designated places around the castle.

Instead of settling down with a book, something the blonde haired student did very often, he moved out of the comforting atmosphere in search of his parents.  Ancient tapestries full of brilliant colors and images decorated the walls of many halls and rooms within the Manor.  Paintings of the many generations of Malfoys hung on the walls, their stiff faces raised with arrogance at anyone who walked through the halls. 

Draco had walked those stone hallways his entire life, not knowing anything else.  Only an old stone castle full of valuable treasures and more rooms and corridors than he had time to explore.  Most of his life had been spent in his own nursery as a child, or the library as he aged.  There were many parts of his ancestral home he had never stepped foot in. 

Knowing that it would be pointless to use a manual search for his parents, he pulled out his wand, ten inches, yew, dragon's heartstring.  "_Adductum Lucius Malfoy_" [1] he said with a flick of his wrist.  A small ball of pure silver light appeared in front of him, circling his head.  Then, the small tracer lead the way down the hall, followed by both Draco and Severus, to the required destination of one Lucius Malfoy, head of the Malfoy house and family.

The clicking of the hard soles of their shoes resounded off the stone flooring, echoing as they made their way through a series of halls, heading into the western portion of the castle.  The West wing of the Manor housed the rooms that belonged to the two elder Malfoys, the East wing to Draco himself.  The small ball of light soon arrived at a set of white double doors, embossed with gold etchings.  These doors were very well known to the youngest Malfoy, leading straight to his mother's favorite parlor where she would spend hours with him as a child.  Pushing the doors open, the two men were met with an image that would be burned into Draco's mind for years to come, surfacing every time he would ask himself just how he had gotten to where he was in the moment. 

Lucius Malfoy, a generally composed man, prestigious throughout the wizarding community, stood towering over his wife, his face twisted with maliciousness, his voice booming throughout the room.  "We made that deal Narcissa!  Both you and I consented to his terms.  You knew it would come, and now you just want to back out.  He has risen!  It is our duty, our promise, our word!  Nothing you do will stop it, so stop your sniveling and accept the facts!"  His open hand harshly struck her porcelain face, her head snapping to the side. 

As Narcissa turned to look at her husband, the curtain of silvery blonde hair that had covered her face fell, exposing the brilliant red handprint stood out on her pale skin.  Her eyes were narrowed, anger radiating from her form.  Standing firm, she evenly spoke her defiance.  "My son is not becoming one of you.  I don't care what promises were made thirteen damn years ago, I don't care about Voldemort's claim on my son.  He is our son and he will not be given over to a man toppled by a mere babe.  He was born of our blood . . . he is our heir . . . not Voldemort's."  Lucius's face hardened at her speech, his grey eyes narrowing with every word.  Glaring, he revealed his wand, holding it tauntingly in front of her, an unspoken threat hanging in the room.

Draco merely stood there in shock.  He had only seen his father strike his mother a few times in his life.  It was generally when she was standing up for him.  Yet, here, it was as if he were watching in slow motion.  Lucius's face screwed up as his lips clearly spoke the words for one of his rather painful curses.  Draco could immediately recognize Occidere Curse. [2] Much like its brother, the Crustacius curse, the Occidere was used for torture, however, it could only be held for a short amount of time, the pain so intense the victim would die easily. 

Draco stood in horror, he knew very well what that curse was.  Training for the dark arts had put him in the same position as his mother at that moment, the same steely grey eyes and wand staring him down.  He had experienced the Occidere curse, just as he had with many other dark spells, in his studies.  He knew the blinding white hot pain that the curse could and would cause his mother.

With every ounce of speed his lithe body contained, he threw himself in front of the shimmering beam, falling to the ground, writhing in agony.  His voice remained silent as his body shuddered under the effects of the curse, never releasing the screams of agony that coursed through his body.  Narcissa looked on his horror and shock as her beloved son was pained by a curse meant for her and her own impertinence.  Severus watched as his godson experienced an insurmountable pain, his face set with a well trained scowl, but his mind running with ideas of how to help the boy he loved like his own.  Lucius merely watched passively, allowing the boy to feel the curse's effects before terminating them.

"Insolent boy!  Haven't I told you before not to meddle in my personal affairs."  Growling, Lucius pulled his son from the floor, forcing him to stand on his weak shaking legs.  Immediately, his grey eyes locked with the silvery orbs of his son, coldly glaring at the boy as he spoke.  "You will stay out of things that do not concern you boy. "

Draco barely heard his words.  Lost in his own world, Draco's body ached, his muscles screaming for relief that he knew would not come for quite some time.  Usually, Draco was able to push past the pain and pay attention to his father, never displaying the inner turmoil that raged within him.  But this time, something was slowly taking over.  Anger at his father's treatment of his mother and rage at his father's words were slowly consuming him.  Words of times past, events of long ago ran through his mind, his anger turning to pure rage, boiling within his blood, consuming him. 

Draco's head snapped to the side forcefully against the power of his father's hand, Lucius's words permeating through the roar of anger that raged in his blood.  "Look at me when I'm speaking to you . . . ungrateful brat!"  Unable to contain himself any longer, Draco stared at his father, his silver eyes narrowing dangerously.  A waver of silvery energy surrounded him, slowly expanding.  Lucius barely managed to hide his shock as he witnessed his son become surrounded by silvery blue flames.  Draco's face, twisted with rage, distorted with anger, sharpened as his emotions made their way to the surface.  With a deafening scream of rage, the swirling energy consumed him, pushing out into the room, and with a flash of light, everything fell silent.

As Severus awoke, he found his body throbbing with pain.  Slowly sitting up, he surveyed the room.  The parlor they were previously in had been destroyed.  The beautiful stained glass windows were now but gaping stone holes, all of the small glass and porcelain trinkets that had been strategically placed about the room lay in pieces.  The furniture, hundreds of years old, lay as matchsticks against the charred Persian rugs.  An unconscious Lucius was covered in debris, half hidden under a plank of wood.  Narcissa lay unconscious as well, but safe.  No debris was on or around her crumbled form.  Severus could only believe that it was Draco's form that protected her from the fallout of the magical explosion.  Draco, like his parents, was laying unconscious right in front of his mother.  His face was ashen, his body stiff, almost as if he were dead. 

The professor was in shock.  He had known that Draco held a vast amount of magical energy, as well as the possibility of wandless magic.  Yet, he had just watched his godson purge his magic from his body in an all out explosion towards his father.  Severus was afraid.  He was never a man to fear things easily; after all, he had betrayed Voldemort and played a spy for the light for years.  It was not that he feared his godson, knowing that the boy would never harm those who did not harm him.  The fear that Snape felt chilling his wizarding blood was for his godson. 

Lucius had always told him of the power that his son possessed.  Severus had always wondered just how Lucius knew it, if it were only speculation or fact.  He had heard several claims that Draco was Voldemort's heir, but ignored those insinuations.  He comforted himself in the thought that Draco would have told him if this were true.  Lucius may have lost the trust that the two men once shared, but Draco's trust and faith in him were far beyond what he would ever have hoped or asked for from the boy.

Gathering his godson in his arms, Severus grasped the necklace he had worn since he had turned spy.  The silver pendant was that of a phoenix, yet, the special property was that it was a Portkey.  Though it was not made from the Malfoy line, but by Dumbledore, the small pendant held a core of Draco's blood.  It had been Draco's own idea, hoping to ensure the safety of his godfather no matter the circumstance. 

Arriving in Hogwarts, in the infirmary none the less, Severus made his way to the Headmaster's office.  Face to face with the gargoyle, he quickly provided the correct password, Ice Mice, and proceeded into the wizard's chamber. 

"Ah, Severus, how can I help you?  The term is over you know."  Dumbledore said, humor playing in his voice. 

"If you will excuse me, Albus, we have a bit more to worry about than the end of the term."  He said, nodding his head to the unconscious boy in his grasp.

"Oh dear, perhaps you should explain yourself Severus."  The constant twinkle in the old headmaster's eyes slowly disappeared as he listened to the events that had occurred in Malfoy Manor as well as Severus's concerns of the boy's future.  Pondering on what could be done, Dumbledore found very little that he could do.  "What do you think should be done Severus?  He is not like Harry; I can't merely take him from his father, nor place him in a safe house.  We know that Lucius has all legal rights to his son."

A grim smile played on Snape's countenance as he spoke to the Headmaster.  "Yes, he does.  Nor would he stop until he had his son back.  Draco is far too valuable to Lucius, as both his heir and his prodigy."

"Tell me Severus, you are rather close to the boy.  I have watched him, he shows only the ideals that his father instilled into him.  Though you may want to protect him, does he want to be protected?"

Severus's usually hardened face softened as he gazed down at the pale boy he held so tightly too.  "Albus, there is much you do not know nor you could understand.  You were a Gryffindor.  This boy is a Slytherin.  You may not see much of a difference, but I know him well.  He was raised under ideals that have been force fed to him since birth.  Expectations have been pounded into him as well.  Slytherins are ambitious, willing to do what they need to survive and profit.  You can not deny that everyone, even you, expect him to become a Death Eater and join ranks with his father.  Hell, it is in his best interest to follow his father's footsteps.  But there is a difference in believing in superiority and killing off the muggle and muggle born.  He may be proud of his ancestry, but he does not wish to be a slave to anyone.  He has far too much pride to kiss Voldemort's feet no matter the power he is promised.  Lucius spent years trying to break him.  To the world he is but a Malfoy, intent on following his father's dark footsteps.  No one tries to see just what it is he believes, not even you Albus.  The Slytherins are merely declared one way and then forgotten for anything else.  But Draco has endured more than a child should, he is strong.  I will not allow them to make him a puppet for their actions.  He may not be Potter, but he deserves what protection we can give him."

"I see, but do you have a plan?"  Dumbledore asked, his gaze resting heavily upon the boy who, in sleep, held such innocence.  Gazing at the boy, he was faintly reminded of the weak child that he had declared an early grave for, only to be proven wrong.  Letting Severus think, the headmaster allowed his mind to wander back ten years, when he met the Malfoy heir for the second time.

_It was at one of the many ministry social gatherings, when times were thought to be much lighter, and the truth of Voldemort's survival was unknown.  For that particular Yule holiday, ministry officials and certain guests gathered together in splendor.  Dumbledore had been sitting beside the hearth, speaking to Cornelius Fudge when a small boy had run into him.  As he looked down, his own sparkling blue eyes met with wide eyes of pure silver.  The boy's silvery blonde hair had been in slight disarray, a warm pink tone flushed upon his cheeks.  _

_Kneeling down, he faced the boy, asking the child's name, unable to recognize him.  The child had given his an aristocratic smile before speaking, his voice displaying his pleasure at being spoken too.  "Malfoy." He said, a childish smirk playing across his face.  "Draco Malfoy."  Dumbledore was unable to understand just how it was possible, only able to believe that Lucius had created another heir in place of the dead child he had known.  _

_He was shaken from his thoughts as a pair of shining black boots reached him, a familiar cane tapping gently upon the hard flooring.  Looking up, Dumbledore was met with the familiar face of Lucius Malfoy himself.  The headmaster merely watched as the aristocratic adult kneeled down beside his son.  "Draco, I thought I told you to wait for me."  Gathering him into his arms, Lucius stood once more.  Sneering at Dumbledore, he once again addressed his son.  "Draco, this is Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster at Hogwarts.   _

_Curiosity lit up within the silver eyes of the child at his father's words.  "Where Uncle Sevy works?"  Sticking out his hand, the child gazed at Headmaster with a new light within his eyes.  "Pleased to meet you sir."  _

_Dumbledore could merely stare at the child.  Though he was merely a child, he held the stature of one much older.  Before he could say anything more to the young Malfoy, Lucius announced that the two had to meet with a few other officials.  As Lucius passed the aged Headmaster, he leaned in slightly, soft words flowing from his mouth into Dumbledore's ears.  Words that would forever confuse him. 'You aren't the only one who understands the value of a dragon.'_ 

He had puzzled over his words many times before, only finding himself reading it as Voldemort claiming Draco as a child.  The meaning of Draco was the only link he found within Lucius's statement.  Though, even then, the words just weren't clear in meaning.  Even now, the words confused him.   Dumbledore was shaken from his thoughts as Severus's silky voice permeated the silence of the room.

"Actually, I do.  An . . . acquaintance . . . of mine happens to work at an exclusive school.  Hardly anyone knows of it, only few have seen it.  It specializes in wandless magic and advanced magical studies.  Draco has been trained far ahead of any of your students here in the Dark Arts.  He was also well trained in the Light, so that he could win in any case."  Severus shot a rather smug look at Dumbledore's surprised one.  "I only know of it because he works there.  It is very selective, but I'm sure Draco can attend.  They are the best to help him control his magical abilities, as well as protect him.  It would also be a capable cover story; one Lucius would not have much of a problem with, though it may be harder to dissuade Lucius later in time.  I've noticed that his abilities are rather uncontrolled at heightened emotional states, making him far more dangerous when he is angry.  They are specialized with these sorts of things as well."

Nodding, Dumbledore bent over a piece of parchment, readily writing a letter to the Headmaster at the academy Severus spoke of.  As Dumbledore did this, Severus bent over his charge.  Silently, he brushed a lock of silky blonde hair from the boy's forehead.  Pulling the youth closer to his body protectively, Severus muttered a prayer for the boy, knowing that there was a hard road ahead of him, harder than before.

As soon as Albus had signed his letter, Severus was readily awaiting his departure.  With the letter in hand and a farewell to the Headmaster, Severus disappeared from the office, appearing once again, thousands of miles from England.  Instead, he now stood by a roaring fire in Italy.  Glancing up, Severus's dark eyes immediately met with a pair of glittering golden orbs. 

"Welcome Severus . . ."

**ooOoOoo******

END NOTES:

[1]  _Adductum_:  Stems from the Latin word, _adduco_, meaning to bring or to lead to a person place or condition.  Basically, it's a locator spell, speaking the word _Adductum_ and then the name or place, bringing about a ball of light to lead you to your requested destination.

[2]  Occidere Curse:  The description is given in the text.  It is another torturous curse, however, it can not be held too long without death.  The name derives from the Latin word _occido_, which means to strike down, beat to the ground, to kill, slay, to plague to death, torment.  The spoken word to cast this spell is _occido_.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and other characters belong to J.K. Rowling. This author makes no claim on them or any other part of the Harry Potter sensation; only the original characters, places, and plot belong to this author.

**ooOoOoo******

**WARNING**: Alternate universe. Some original characters. Future slash pairing, meaning in a male homosexual relationship. This won't show up for a while, but the warning is still here. If you don't like it, then why are you reading it?

**ooOoOoo******

**..::Draconis Sanguen::..**

Chapter 2

Sharp silver eyes snapped open, the lithe body of the youth stiffening immediately. Sharpening his hearing, he searched for the sound that may have woken him. Unable to detect the presence of another, Draco slowly stood and glanced about the room.

The large room's walls were covered with dark wooden shelves, mass amounts of older books claiming their rights to the deep shelves. In front of a large bay window sat a dark wooden desk, neatly topped with more volumes, parchment, and other standard items. Beside him, a fire's warmth nipped at the sleeves of his robes. The mantle of the large fireplace was topped with candles and a few glowing orbs. Above that were various swords, daggers and other weapons.

Seating himself on the black leather couch, his eyes drifted down to the ebony rug, his eyes tracing over the silver Celtic designs embedded in the material. His mind raced with thoughts, unsure of where he was. He could remember jumping in front of the curse that had been meant for his mother, but everything after that was a blur. Though he had never seen all of the rooms of the mansion, Draco was quite sure that this one was not. Moving towards the window, he gazed out and knew that he was no where near home. Young wizards moved about the grounds, their black robes billowing around them. A small game of Quidditch was occurring on another part of the land. In the distance, unfamiliar buildings decked the horizon.

A soft creak echoed through the room, taking Draco's attention from the outside. Whirling around, his defenses up and wand out, his silver orbs met with those of golden hues. Shock riddled his face as he took in the familiar golden hair streaked with silver, the cheerful face, tinged with weariness. However, unlike the man he had seen little over a year ago, his black robes were not tattered or torn, but starched and pristine as his own usually were.

"Ah, Draco. It is good to see you awake. I was wondering when you would come around. Please, have a seat." He said, his rich voice booming through the room as he waved towards the leather chair by the desk.

Draco did as he was asked, his eyes darting about the room as if the walls would transfigure to an animal, ready to bite. Hesitantly, he returned his wand to the small hidden part of the sleeve of his robes, ready to use it in an instant if need be.

Sitting down behind the desk, the man immediately faced the young boy, his large smile displaying the rows of perfect white teeth. "I assume you have a number of questions." At this, Draco nodded, unsure of anything at the moment. "Well, let me introduce myself formerly, though I'm sure you remember me. I am Professor Remus Lupin."

"Professor?" Draco asked with a confused look upon his face. "Where am I? And just what are you doing here?"

"To answer both of your questions, you are at the Venetian Institute of Advanced Magic, located in Venice, Italy. And again, I am a professor. I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts and a number of smaller classes. I am also a confidant." Sighing, he settled himself against the back of his chair. "I see that you are still consumed by your thoughts about me from Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy." He said as he viewed the sneer that had formed upon the Slytherin's face.

"Well, those rumors were true, weren't they Professor? You are a werewolf, the same one that tried to kill my godfather."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. I am a werewolf. I am one not by choice, but by the magic that runs through the lycanthrope's veins. There is no cure, only a potion that makes me as docile as your average house pet on the nights of the full moon. I did not ask to be a werewolf, so I would ask that you not judge me by something that I have no control over. I'm sure that you can relate to this well." Golden eyes full of wisdom settled upon the xanthracroid. "As for what happened to Snape, well, there is nothing I can say to make up for the events of that night, but I have no control over my state without the wolfsbane potion."

Silver eyes trailed to the floor, knowing that the werewolf spoke the truth. Professor Lupin could not be held responsible for his lanthroscopy any more than Draco would be held accountable for being a Malfoy, which could be both a curse and a blessing. Stifling his sigh, he looked expectantly at the Professors. "Then what am I doing here?"

"I suppose I should explain things from the beginning. Earlier today, what you experienced was a magical purge. Your emotions caused you to expel quite a large amount of magic outward. According to Snape, the room suffered quite a bit of damage." His humor coated words darkened as he spoke.

"You see, Draco, you are currently at a school for those who have more aptitude towards magic. You were brought here for a number of reasons. First of all, your godfather knows that your father will use your power for Voldemort, whether you like it or not. This school is not known throughout the wizarding world, it is a very large secret. It is unplotted on any map and surrounded by more wards than Hogwarts could even dream of. If anyone, especially Voldemort, were to know, the chances of an attempt to take over the school are impossibly high. This is a neutral school. We play no sides, just stay in the shadows."

"Second of all is your magic. You possess a great amount of power, my boy, which is very hard to control. Here, you will learn to control your magical energy, as well as your emotions that cause it to overflow. We have much more advanced courses than Hogwarts. We offer a number of programs offered no where else, but from what I understand, you have been trained beyond even what half of our classes have learned."

Draco blinked, breaking the gaze he held at the man before him. "So, I've come here to learn?"

"To learn and be protected Draco. Here, there is no pressure for you to choose your side. Only to learn. Your curriculum will be set by you and your interests, only a few classes are standard. Nor are there houses here. There are not as many students as at Hogwarts, and we expect everyone to be civil. There are no sides here. No one is dark or light. There are no expectations or prejudices here. This is a haven as well as an institute. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Draco said his voice very quiet as he pondered over the man's words. It was clear that the expectations of death eater and such were excluded in this school. Hesitantly, he spoke, unsure of how to react to this speech. "Does my father know where I am? It is highly doubtful he would allow me to enter such a situation."

Humor danced upon the professor's face as he answered. "Your father has only been alerted that you are in training. He is unaware of where you are at. The only person who truly knows this is Professor Snape. Not even Headmaster Dumbledore knows your true location."

"Oh." Draco mumbled. His mind was full with the words of Professor Lupin. "So . . . what is going to happen now?" His cold shell cracked his voice nearly a whisper. It was then that Remus could understand Snape's words about the boy and penetrate the thick façade he wore with far too much familiarity and ease.

_"I'm leaving him in your hands Lupin. I don't trust you, and I don't think I ever will, but I can't have him be forced to receive the Dark Mark and succumb to Voldemort's power. He is a very valuable asset to either side, his power is great. When he has control, he could very well be equal, if not greater than Dumbledore. I suspect greater, he hides behind no feeble illusions. He has been hardened to the world, exposed to more things than a boy his age should have. Sometimes, when I look at him, I see me . . . and Lupin, it scares me. You know Lucius; you know what he is capable of. Draco has been trained in both sides of the art, exceeding anyone at Hogwarts and, in some aspects, some of the professors. [1]_

_But despite his abilities and power, he is still a boy, only 14 years old. He is like my own son. I have watched him grow, I have been there for him, wiped tears from his face after Lucius was done with him, laughed with him, embraced him, and attempted to shelter him. I'm leaving him in your protection, do not disappoint me. No matter how cold he may act, no matter how strong he acts, he is not infallible. He feels like you and I and he will need you. Gain his confidence, and protect him . . . for me."_[2]

Quietly, he walked over to the boy and knelt before him. Gently tilting the boy's head so that they could look at each other face to face, he spoke. "Now you are free. You can do as you wish, within bounds. Now you are safe. There is nothing here to hurt you. And now, I should introduce you to the Direttore [3], show you the school, and get you settled in. We can talk as we do this. Alright?"

Once more, his steel countenance fell into place, obstructing Remus's prying eyes from the truth that lay behind the mask. Standing with the grace and demeanor of one raised in the highest class, Draco followed the professor out the door and into the halls of his new school.

The torches on the stone walls barely flickered as the teacher and student passed down the silent corridors. At the end of the hall, Draco soon found himself down into a large foyer full of students. As the two made their way down the large central staircase, the eyes of those below soon drifted up. Eyes brightened with the appearance of one of the most popular teachers at the prestigious school, others narrowing at the sight of the boy that followed him. The crowds parted with ease, each student stepping far away from the new student, sneers and unmasked hatred riddling many of their faces. Others were ignorant to the heavy air that had settled upon them and continued to smile, curiosity shining in their eyes.

Mentally snorting, Draco tilted his head slightly upward, not allowing the other students to see their attitudes affect him. 'Unprejudiced atmosphere my arse. Each of them are seeing just what those at Hogwarts saw. My father, my name, and family history. And that is certainly not winning me any popularity contests here.'

Remus could feel the oppressive air that hung about. It was almost suffocating. Yet a single glance back proved that the young Malfoy was faring well. The werewolf had no doubts that the boy would succeed. Yet, the boy's cruel and harsh behavior at Hogwarts did not bode well for how he would get along at this school. And here, the hexes were not something to play with. After all, this was a school that housed some of the most potent magic users.

The hostility faded as they moved further into the large castle, leaving a trail of fierce whispers and gossip behind them. Through the labyrinth of corridors, the two soon found themselves in front of a golden door, gilded with the image of a large serpentine dragon. As soon as the two stood before it, brilliant ruby eyes opened, a gruff deep rumble stemming from the beast within the door. Remus placed his head upon the dragon's snout, a snort soon following it as the door slid open, allowing the two to enter, ruby eyes cautiously watching the two before closing once more.

Behind a large ebony desk, embossed with the same serpentine dragons, was a young man, his long ebony hair tied at the nape of his neck, curious midnight blue velvet eyes glancing up from behind a piece of parchment at their entrance. Slowly, he put the paper down and stood before them, his deep eyes trailing over Draco, studying as Draco studied him. The man wore tight black dragon hide pants and boots, a rich white silk dress shirt, topped off with a thick black cloak, the golden clasp in the shape of the serpentine dragon. A thin gold chain hung from his strong neck, disappearing into his white shirt. A small gold hoop hung through one ear, the torchlight glinting off of it. His entire appearance screamed rebellious youth, but his toned physic and cool composure demanded respect.

"Draco, I'd like you to meet the Direttore, or Headmaster, here at the Institute, Christophe Magnus. Sir, this is Draconis Malfoy, the young man I spoke to you about earlier."

Draco politely bowed towards the man before him, his face lacking all emotion, pushing the curiosity out of his mind. Vaguely, he wondered just how Lupin had known his full first name. However, he quickly shook away his thoughts as the Direttore spoke.

"Thank you Remus. I'm honored to meet you, young Master Malfoy, even if it under such circumstances." The two males nodded assent to one another, recognizing their positions. Draco, who had been trained for all such occasions, had been slightly surprised to hear the proper address placed upon his name, expecting the usual Mister. The Direttore was obvious knowledgeable in upper class wizarding mannerisms and society.

"Now, the rules here at the Institute are relatively simple. You will not leave the marked grounds unless you have both an escort as well as permission from myself. Your escort must be a legal wizard, and preferably one of the professors here. This is a peaceful school, Master Malfoy, one that will not tolerate petty school boy arguments and actions. You will be treated as an adult, and expected to act as one in return. Duels may be used to solve any disputes; however, they will be scheduled and practiced under the supervision of two professors and myself. Other than that, this school operates much like Hogwarts did, rule wise. Should you step out of your place, you will be given a task or have one of your privileges revoked. There are no houses here, so the point system you are familiar with is nonexistent."

"However, you have been assigned a Confidante, which is Professor Lupin. You will go to him twice a week for an hour session. What the two of you do is up to you, but I would suggest you use it to further your knowledge of Remus. I'm afraid that you will not be well received here. As much as I would like to say that we are unprejudiced, many of the students here have knowledge of your Father's reputation, as well as the reputation of your Family." A small twinkle appeared in his eye, reminiscent of Headmaster Dumbledore, as he continued. "But I have a feeling that you will prove yourself to them most admirably."

"Most importantly, remember this. You are a wizard, young Master Malfoy. You are not your father; you are not your mother, nor anyone else. I dare say you are not Harry Potter in disguise either. You are Draconis Ares Daemon Malfoy. Let others see you as they please, let other judge you from a past, but never fool yourself into believing that you are anything less than human. You will do great things, I can feel it. I challenge you, Master Malfoy, to prove to me and everyone else who sees you as a 'junior Deatheater,' as one might say, that you are not what you seem and show me your true potential."

Quicksilver locked onto navy in an unspoken agreement, the knowledge reflected into the orbs that clashed violently. A smirk settled upon both of their faces as they turned, in unison, to Remus Lupin. The rich baritone of the school's Direttore, broke through the tense silence. "Remy, please escort your newest student to the Wand Master and have him checked out please. After that, you may take him to his room." A nod assented from the werewolf in agreement to the terms immediately.

With a rare smile played upon the man's face as he turned to the young blonde student. "My door is always open for you, Draco. If you need anything, do not hesitate to come to me. Even if there is nothing you desire, I look forward to seeing just what you can do."

A small smile tugged upon the corner of Draco's lips, his silvery orbs glittering with promise. "Of course . . . Chris."

Professor and student soon left the room, making their way through the labyrinth of corridors in companionable silence, each thinking of just how interesting the coming year would be.

**ooOoOoo******

END NOTES:

[1] Remember, Severus is clueless to Draco's position as future heir. I'm not going to keep reminding, but just letting you know once more.

[2] Out of Character Snape. Yes, I know this. But what needs to be realized is that he holds a lot of love to Draco, a lot of fear to what will happen to him. He doesn't know that Draco is heir and he has no idea what happened at his birth. He simply doesn't want anything to happen to Draco, and will use whatever means necessary, even if it means being nice to Lupin. And maybe a bit of past attraction . . . Vote: A side dish of: Severus/Remus or Sirus/Remus . . . or maybe even Severus/Remus/Sirus. Sirus will turn up when everything is back at Hogwarts, maybe earlier.

[3] _Direttore_ is Italian for Headmaster. The school is located in Italy, so a few titles will no longer be in British form.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and other characters belong to J.K. Rowling. This author makes no claim on them or any other part of the Harry Potter sensation; only the original characters, places, spells, potions, and plot belong to this author.

**ooOoOoo******

**AN**: So sorry it took so long. I have been in and out with hospital visits, school was a mess, and family issues were a major problem. But things seem to have straightened back out so I should be back to work on this story and here's a long chapter for you. I have reposted all chapters without author's notes and redone in HTML format. This chapter will be replaced at a later time as well. Anyways, there are tons of hints in this chapter, but very little explanation. So, if things are confusing, just wait. Everything will be revealed as we move with the story.  
  
**WARNING**: Alternate universe. Some original characters. Future slash pairing, meaning in a male homosexual relationship. This won't show up for a while, but the warning is still here. If you don't like it, then why are you reading it?

**Future Pairings**: HP/DM; RW/HG

**ooOoOoo******

**..::Draconis Sanguen::..**

Chapter 3

. . . Two Years Later . . .

"Dragons are perhaps one of the most magnificent and legendary of the magical beasts. To muggles, these creatures are nothing more than a flight of fancy, much like magic itself. However, they do exist. There are currently ten known breeds of dragons in the world, each with its own definable characteristics. These extraordinary animals are rarely seen by humans, muggles and wizards alike. But due to their massive size, wizards must work to keep these beautiful beasts hidden from the muggle world. The combined effort of the Ministries of Magic over hundreds of years can be testified by the muggle belief that these creatures are nothing but a creation of mythology. Today, dragons are usually kept within carefully regulated preserves, guarded by dragon keepers. The protection of every dragon is vital to the magical world. Their hides are often used for clothing. Their hearts in wands, their horns and eggs for potions, even their dung is used for fertilizer. The blood of the dragon was discovered to have twelve different uses, as found by Albus Dumbledore, the current headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

With a deep breath, the stout professor turned to his small class of assorted students, his dark brown eyes churning with excitement. "While these uses are well known, many wizards have found their own personal uses from dragons' parts. A number of jewelry and decorative items have been created from the fangs, horns, scales and claws of these beasts. It is even said that those who wear these parts of the dragon gain extra protection. This concept was mostly founded upon the fact that dragons have incredible protective magic imbedded within their blood. Their scales are impenetrable by any known weapon, their fire known to destroy anything in its way. In fact, Amarus Digsby was able to contain the brilliant blue flames of Swedish Short-snout after it had decimated a muggle village in the thirteenth century. This flame is rumored to have burned, un-consuming, for more than three centuries. [1]"

A large smile graced his face as he turned back to his students. "Today, we will be visiting one of the nearby Dragon Preserves, located in Romania. I expect each of you to understand the key characteristics of each of the ten breeds as well as be able to identify them by description and picture. If you will split into your pre-assigned groups, I will pass out the portkeys. Each of these are designed to go off in exactly fifteen minutes. Be sure to hold on. Once we are there, each group will be lead on a tour by a Dragon Keeper. Make sure you listen to them. And, please remember that if you are in the necessary situation, only use docility charms to calm them. After that, report the events as well as the utilized charm to your Dragon Keeper. Understood?"

A chorus of agreement rang through the room at the Venetian Institute of Advanced Magic. With a nod, he made his way through the room, handing a portkey to each group of three. The four groups had easily broken up within the classroom, leaving one student out of the masses. To the side, away from the quiet chatter of the other students, a platinum blonde haired young man sat, his silver eyes lost in the distance.

At seventeen, Draco Malfoy was a sight to behold. His silvery blonde hair hung free from its once slicked back state, allowing the long silky layers to frame his aristocratic face. His skin was comparable to porcelain, unmarred and unlined, smooth and perfect. His silver eyes, though cold and hard to the outside, now carried an almost demonic glint. Long coal colored lashes softly caressed his high cheekbones as they fluttered; shielding those hoary orbs from the power of the morning sun's rays. Standing, Draco's commanding height and confident swagger clearly displayed his patented Malfoy arrogance. Approaching the professor, he bent slightly, his voice softly playing through the air.

"Signore [2], were you able to speak with Direttore Magnus?"

Glancing up, the older male's eyes shifted his stance uncomfortable. "Yes, Master Malfoy. The Direttore agreed that you should be able to complete this assignment alone. However, he insists that you be accompanied by Professor Lupin, who has agreed."

Draco's eyes narrowed, his steely eyes flaring before resuming their cold appearance. "Of course, Professor." He said his voice cold. With a slight nod of assent, he retrieved one of the nearby portkeys before returning to his seat.

The other students of the class carefully avoided eye contact with the young man, as well as any other sort of contact. Memories of the sniveling brat brought to the institute exactly two years before had faded, along with the bruises and torment Draco had once received. Instead, this was replaced by vivid thoughts of his wild, nearly uncontrollable power, malevolent means of revenge, and the slight glint of insanity that would appear, deeply reminding any student of his truly dark nature.

Many students at the academy had pondered over the boy's power. The older students' tales of the pale boy that had hidden in the shadows seemed impossible. The fading bruises covered by newer blacker ones decorating his pale skin. An emaciated body and broken spirit, each of them a product of the hatred many students held towards his father, as well as the symbol his mere name had been. **_Malfoy_**. A symbol of the hatred and fear that had over taken and plagued the European Wizarding Worlds. A figure of the darkness, the violence, the evil of Lord Voldemort. An icon of prejudice amongst the upper class purebloods.

Yet, less than a year after his arrival, all had changed. His fear had evaporated, his quiet nature receding. All of this had been replaced by anger and hate, pure and unadulterated bloodlust, seeking revenge. Rumors of insanity followed his step, his eyes only encouraging the thought as they wildly flashed. Every act that had been taken against him, every person who had assisted in his previously stated destruction was repaid by ten-fold. The glittering silver magical aura, only seen a few times before, had surrounded him constantly, his speech often slow, wondering, as he grinned madly.

Nearly six months of insanity had passed before that silver shield dissipated, his eyes loosing their wild destructive glint. Instead, an icy front had resurrected itself, his cold eyes and freezing glares stopping any student, no matter their level, in their tracks. This was the same student they knew today, nine months later. Those who had dared to defy him felt his silent wrath. Anything in his way, he destroyed, earning the fear and respect of his fellow students who fell in line behind him, following his will.

A knock at the door broke through the soft talk of the students, each one turning to see who had entered the room a mere three minutes before the portkeys would transport them to Romania. Remus Lupin, a well respected and much loved professor, peered into the room, his brilliant golden eyes scanning the small collection of students. Landing upon the familiar sight of his charge, Remus opened the door wider, admitting himself into the classroom. After formally nodding to the other professor, he made his way to his blonde haired student, collapsing into the chair beside him.

Gold orbs trailed over the stoic figure of his young charge. "I would have thought you would have been rather pleased at the chance to visit the Dragon Preserve. Was I wrong?"

A brief flicker of a smile illuminated the cold boy's features, showing the normal seventeen year old boy that could never be seen through the icy veneer. "Of course, Professor," He drawled. "Any chance to be freed of this school's campus, even for a few hours, is definitely welcome."

A deep chuckle left the werewolf as he leaned over the desk, placing his hand on the small glass stone. Glancing at the clock, Remus noted that they had only one minute before the keys would activate.

Before he could turn to make a comment at the boy's cynicism, a loud crash resounded through the room, causing everyone to turn and stare at the cause of the problems. Shaking the dust from his coat was a large black dog, a ghostly reminder of a grim, surrounded by the ancient volumes of text that had fallen about him when he had run into the small branched out bookshelf. Gaining its wits about him, the dog quickly stood, ignoring the lightheadedness that threatened to envelope him, and made its way over to Remus. Leaning against the professor's side, a single black paw settled on top of the portkey just as it activated.

Seconds later, only the fallen book case remained as a symbol that anyone had been within the room.

**ooOoOoo******

"Ron!" A rich baritone voice called out.

Amidst the bustling crowd of young witches and wizards, a tall red haired male turned, his blue-green [3] eyes glittering as he searched for the possessor of that familiar voice. The years had been good to Ronald Weasley, allowing him to grow taller, his lean frame fitting his new height well. His once bright freckles had faded with time, his handsome face catching the eyes of many as he stood, waiting for his friend. His bright red hair still glowed like fire, a trademark of his heritage.

Panting, one Harry Potter, the prodigy of the Wizarding World, caught up with his long time school friend. Though not as tall as Ron, Harry had grown to an admirable height, his frame displaying the well earned muscles from Quidditch training as well as the manual labor he had done at the Dursley's home. His dark raven locks were still as untamable as ever, his emerald eyes shining brighter than ever behind the thick lenses of his glasses. His smile, displaying his white teeth, grew larger as slung an arm around his companion.

"Ready for our last year mate?" He asked, grinning as he looked about.

"Of course! No more Snape breathing down our backs, no more homework, no more boring lectures!" Ron replied cheerfully as the two made their way through the crowds and onto the trains. "Have you seen 'Mione?"

Just as Harry opened his mouth, he caught sight of his other best friend. Making her way towards the train, Hermione Granger's searching golden brown eyes lit up as they fell upon the waiting wizards. She was perhaps the most changed of the Gryffindor Trio. Her once bushy hair now fell in smooth, well tamed curls, golden blonde highlighting the once moose brown color. Her wide eyes had been expertly lined, accentuating her amber like orbs that peer through thick dark lashes. Full lips coated in clear gloss easily formed into a wide smile as she was enveloped by her dark haired friend, his larger form easily embracing her own slim body.

As Harry released her, Ron slipped his arm around her, gently kissing his girlfriend's cheek. Before anyone could speak, the shrill whistle of the train pierced the platform, sending the lingering students onto the train.

"Seamus and Dean have a compartment waiting for us." Harry said as he led the way to the rear of the train.

Fingering her Head Girl badge, Hermione smiled. "I have to go to the prefect's compartment, but I'll meet up with you two later. Okay?"

The two boys sent her on her way as they pushed through the crowds, happily entering through the doors leading to a compartment. As the doors slid open, the loud friendly cries of the Gryffindors could be heard echoing through the train.

**ooOoOoo******

In the very rear compartment, behind the spell locked doors and through the heavy silencing charms, a small group of Slytherins sat, their solemn faces reflecting in one another's eyes. Unlike the House of the Gryffindor, the War that was so quiet and unseen was played out every day before them. In every word their parents spoke, ever act they were forced to take, their every thought, their very lives, each tangled within the webs their ancestors had unknowingly weaved within the darker sides of the magical world.

Blaise Zabini, seventh year prefect, Slytherin Quidditch Team Captain and Seeker, carefully watched the few he had brought into the room. He knew his presence was required with the other Prefects; however, their immediate business as the leaders of the Slytherin house was far more important than their position in the school hierarchy.

Pulling a single nondescript piece of folded parchment from his thick designer robes, he gently traced his finger over the elegant penmanship that simply addressed the front of the letter.

_Blaise__ Zabini_

_Second Suite of the Southern Wing_

_Zabini__ Estate_

_RE: Changes_

The silver ink glistened in the morning sunlight that filtered into their compartment, the letter practically oozing of the numerous protection charms that had been placed upon it. With a grim look, he cleared his throat, placing the letter upon the trunk that lay in the center of their compartment.

Each pair of eyes locked upon the well worn letter, hunger glistening in their eyes as they stared at the careful folds of the paper, taking in the simple curves of the familiar handwriting that adorned it. Handwriting that each person within the confines of the room had yearned to see all summer.

"He wrote?" Pansy Parkinson whispered, her hand gently reaching out to, but never touching the letter that lay so innocently against the dark wood.

Everyone's eyes seemed riveted on the simple piece of folded parchment that lay there. The words they knew it contained meant so much more than just the possibility of tactics and loyalties, but the only form of contact they had been granted, as rare as it had been, with the boy that was ripped from them little more than two years ago. They had never been given an actual explanation for Draco's sudden disappearance, his rare correspondence, simply that he was being 'educated elsewhere.' Of course, their parents had granted them the knowledge that the Dark Lord was most anxious to have his heir back.

"Of course he did," Tracey Davis said from her corner of the compartment as she continued to blankly stare out the window. "Did you ever truly doubt that our Sleeping Dragon would forget about us?"

Many concerned looks were shot in her direction, before returning to the letter. With a sigh, Blaise pushed back a lock of his raven hair as he picked the letter back up. However, before his finger could break the heavy seal, a beautiful silver dagger was handed to him. Glancing up, he found himself looking at the blushing face of Theodore Nott.

The young man, whose voice was always as quiet as his demeanor, had always been a very special part of their group. Draco had once said that he was like a treasure in the Slytherin cave and they were destined to protect him. This random statement had been spurned all because of one simple factor…innocence. Most anyone in the House of the Serpent had lose that quality long ago, except the few rare gems that had held onto it, Nott being one of them. Looking at the handle of the dagger, Blaise recognized it as the one Draco had given the thin boy at the last Yule they had seen their blonde friend. The classic handle had been tipped with a Celtic Knot, and then, wrapping around the entire handle, was the body of an emerald encrusted serpent.

Nodding, he took the dagger and cleanly slit through the heavy wax seal that was marked with the crest of the House of Malfoy. The charmed Hydra of the Malfoy crest recognized the magical signatures as acceptable, thus allowing the parchment to be opened. As the letter was unfolded, he watched as the familiar silver script appeared upon the page, weaving into the words he anticipated reading. Glancing up, he noticed that even Tracey, who had barely looked away from the window, waited just as eagerly to hear from their missing companion.

_My Sly Nest of Snakes:_

_First of all, I must extend my apologies as correspondence as of late has been most infrequent. I assure you, I have not forgotten about our bond of friendship nor the upcoming difficulties we will be facing. I understand how eager you are to discover my current location, but for the safety of many, it must remain a secret. I was most upset to here about the most recent activities of the Ministry. Please extend my deepest grievances to our purest gem at the loss of his father. I understand that, as that was his only family, he has no other tie. If there is any complication in ensuring his return to Hogwarts, alert the raven immediately. _

_The War is coming and we must be prepared. My current exile will not be forever, I will return, and when I do, we will show everyone just how much value a true serpent holds. After all, even the smallest snake can bring down the most powerful of men. There are many obstacles before us and, as we have seen with the recent increase in Ministry enforcement of Death Eater punishments (please excuse the callousness of this statement, Theo), we will have to be prepared and proceed with extreme caution. But we were put into Slytherin for a reason. And as we stated so long ago, in a time and place none of us have forgotten, we will face it together, we always have each other…_

**ooOoOoo******

Leaning over the caldron, seventeen year old Draco Malfoy carefully examined the potion that softly simmered. The light blue liquid slowly turned metallic as he carefully added, drop by drop, the final compound . . . Dragon's blood. As the seventh drop fell into the mixture, an icy frost fell upon the cauldron, immediately cooling the new potion. A soft smile reflected upon Draco's face as he lifted his wand, his long fingers trailing over the ornate carvings upon the white material that glittered with strands of silver.

For little more than two years, he had held that very wand, cast spells with the magical instrument he held within his grasp. Closing his eyes, Draco could easily remember when he had first seen the testament to his true origins, the first clue to who he really was.

_The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway as Remus led the newest addition to the Venetian Institute of Advanced Magic, Draco Malfoy, through the bowels of the school. It had been a shock to discover that Ollivander's Wands were not the ones that were destined for their owners. It was, in fact, that the substances used at his shop were generally compatible for any witch or wizard, and the combination was suitable for specific ones. However, there were much more rare wands, those of much more potency that could actually be the true wand of the wizard._

_Thus, as the first act in preparation for classes, Direttore Magnus had sent them to see the Wand Master in order to discover if the wand that he had received at Ollivander's had been his true wand mate. If not, the man would be able to 'read' what it would be, and bring it to him. If the mate was not already crafted, then it would be made for him. However, it was very rare for the wand not to have already been made. _

_Entering the room, Draco found himself looking at what seemed to be a library. A small desk stood in front of a cavern of shelves of, what he assumed to be, boxes of wands. Drawing in a breath, he stared wide eyed at the sheer size of the room behind the desk. Looking down at the wand that had served him faithfully for four years, he wondered if his wand actually did belong to him. Obviously it did, after all, it had glowed white and set off silver and gold sparklers at a wave upon contact so long ago. _

_However, Draco had always thought he was stronger than he felt when he wielded his wand. Growing up constantly hearing about how strong he was, about how thick and rich his blood was with the power of magic, he would have expected his magic to have been so much more extraordinary then it had shown to be at Hogwarts. Yet, in light of the current events, it obviously was something much different. Could it truly be that his wand was not allowing him to fully express his capabilities?_

_"Ah, a new one I see." A voice drawled from the dusty cavern as an older man exited the back. Shivers coursed down the Malfoy heir's spine as almost completely white eyes trailed over his body, piercing through him. "A very interesting one at that."_

_"Yes Samire. Mr. Malfoy, I would like you to meet Samire Helmsby. Samire, this is Draco Malfoy, the newest student at the Institute. Magnus wanted me to bring him down to see if the wand he currently has is the one he should have or not. If not, then he needs the right one before we start working with him."_

_A small smirk played upon Samire's lips as he looked at Draco, never once glancing at the werewolf. "Of course Lupin. Alright boy, I'll need to see your wand." He said as he seated himself at the desk. Hesitantly, Draco withdrew his wand, laying it upon the desk before the Wand Master. He had barely removed his hand before the man let out a barking laugh. "Ten inches, yew with a core of dragon's heartstring! What was Ollivander thinking?"_

_Silver eyes narrowed as anger once again raced through his veins. Draco had had enough. He had been hexed with ridiculously low level spells by a group of incompetent Gryffindors, come home to find his parents arguing, had to endure the Occidere Curse, blew out a room of his manor, been abducted by his Godfather, abandoned in some school filled with people who hated him because of his name and a Gryffindor werewolf, and now this man, who he had just met, wanted to insult the wand he had used, rather well if he did say so himself, for four years._

_For the first time, Remus Lupin discovered why Draco Malfoy had been brought to the Institute. At Samire's caustic comment, the room's temperature had plunged icy cold, his breath forming puffs of visible air before him. Looking around in bewilderment, he noticed, to his shock, the visible tendrils of silver magical energy that had snaked its way around his new charge's limbs, the boy's eyes shining with energy as he sneered at Samire._

_In the cavern, waves of magical energy shook the shelves, sending the boxes crashing to the floor without care. However, one ancient heavy tome shot out of its darkened compartment, carried by silver waves of magic, and floated into the main room. Much to the shock of the two adults, the watched as the boy became lost within his magic, the visible energy focusing upon the wands, tendrils tracing, searching for something they could not see. However, once a heavy wooden box had levitated onto his desk, Samire had blink in surprise. The chest was covered by a thick layer of dust and grime, obviously from the back of the room._

_Once the trunk had fallen onto the table, Draco's eyes rolled back into his head, his body falling limply to the ground. Remus merely stood and stared, completely speechless at the scene that had occurred before him. Glancing up, he looked questioningly at Samire, unsure of what to think about what had just transpired._

_Samire__, who was working on cleaning away the dirt from the chest, merely shrugged. "Ollivander may say that the wand chooses the wizard, but I would say that this boy would dare to defy even Destiny herself if given the chance. This time, the wizard chose the wand."_

_Remus__ smirked as he bent down to move the unconscious boy to a nearby chair. Samire had definitely made an understatement there. If there was one thing he had discovered about the boy during his time at Hogwarts, it was that he was stubborn and proud. However, before he could ponder over the mysteries that were the enigma of the boy before him any longer, a loud gasp from the Wand Master drew his attention elsewhere. And from the stunned face of Samire to the open treasure tomb._

_Lying upon a cushion of ebony silk lay a long slender white wand. However, in the light, he could see the white exterior marred by thin trails of silver that mixed with the creamy material of the wand. However, unlike any wand he had ever seen, the outside had been carefully and artistically carved with Ancient Runes, not one of them he could recognize._

_From beside him, Draco slowly awoken, his eyes immediately falling upon the wand that seemed to called to him. Upon shaking legs, he moved toward it, grasping it within his hand. The moment his fingers slid around the cool silky texture of the wand, Draco felt as if everything was right again. It was as if an unknown calm had settled upon him. With a simple wave and no words, every wand and box in the cavern behind them had returned to the shelf, returning to its previous state. Blinking his eyes, he glanced down at the wand before looking at the two adults in wonder._

_Remus__, who could only watch, unable to fathom what was occurring, turned towards the Wand Master, noticing the incredulous expression carved within the mans ancient face. "What type of wand did you give him?" _

_Samire__ turned, his eyes churning with emotion, his voice barely more than a whisper echoed through the room.__ Words that would eventually prove to change Draco's life forever._

_"Sixteen inches…a core of blood voluntarily given from the Blessed Dragon . . . Sealed into the fang of the Blessed Dragon . . . carved with the Ancient Runes of Morgan LeFay..."_ [4]

With a sigh, he moved the caldron to another table on the other side of the room to be bottled. The wand had been perhaps the first shock, but never the greatest. So much had happened since then; so many changes had been endured. Looking back, Draco wondered if he would ever regret being brought to the Institute. The school had become a symbol of so much hate, of pain and torture that he had been forced to endure. But then, where would he be if it were not for this place? And for these people?

Just then, the door opened, a large black dog racing through, quickly followed by the familiar form of Remus Lupin. The canine swiftly shifted, taking upon the human form of Draco's second cousin, Sirius Black, who flashed a large grin at the pale blonde.

"Eclipse!" Sirius called out as he enveloped his cousin in a familiar embrace. To the ex-convict, the two years spent at the Institute had been rewarding beyond belief. He had originally been brought to protect and assist Draco's training as a favor to his best friend, but he had grown fond of his cousin. Time and events had brought him close to his heart. Grinning, he ruffled the boy's hair affectionately.

Appalled, Draco pushed his cousin away from him. "Get away from me you mutt!" He cried out as he moved to fix his hair. "You are dirty and sweaty and you bloody reek." He said with a venomous glare to the older man. "And you messed up my hair!" Draco added with a pout.

Good naturedly, the men laughed at the student as he straightened himself. Remus smiled fondly at the two males in the room, each very special to him in different ways. Sirius had always been a close friend, their tattered friendship rebuilt over the two years at the Institute. However, Draco had become something of a son and brother to both of them, so close they had bestowed the boy with a Marauder's nickname, Eclipse. Even the werewolf part of his mind had accepted Draco as part of his pack, to be protected and cherished for life. Behind that indifferent icy mask they had found the mischievous and intelligent life with a thirst to learn. Even after teaching Draco for a year at Hogwarts, Remus had been completely blind to the truth behind Draco's facades. The boy was forever a Slytherin.

Yet, the days of hearing Harry complain about the 'evil git' were over. The boy that had been at Hogwarts was gone . . . forever. He had been replaced by something much darker and dangerous. Those first few months at the Institute had broken the boy, stripped him of everything he had believed in. Not even Remus had expected it. In truth, Remus regretted never extending a hand to help then; instead, he had turned his head to the truth. Never acknowledging the reality behind the bruises that had riddled the boy's emaciated body. Always accepting clumsiness as an excuse for the injuries when he knew it was never true.

But when Draco had broken, both Remus and Sirius had been there to see it. Both had been there to see the boy stripped of his pride and arrogance, reduced to the lonely soul that had been within. From there, the pair had been with him through the nightmares, slowly helping him heal. But before the boy could truly recover from the blows that had been dealt to him in the first six months away from England, the truth of Draco's survival from birth and its implications had been uncovered.

A loud shriek pierced the room, effectively shattering Remus's thoughts. Hands immediately clasp over his sensitive ears as he peered up, watching as Sirius held a shrieking Draco over his shoulder, threatening to drop him out the fifth floor window of the Venetian castle for calling him a mutt . . . again.

As Draco was placed back onto the ground, Sirius swiftly moved behind Remus, hiding behind the Professor, knowing that the infamous white wand would be drawn soon. Sure enough, the familiar wand was pointing directly at Remus as Draco glared at Sirius.

"Padfoot . . ." Draco said seething.

"Uh-uh."

"Snuffles . . ." He demanded.

"Nope."

"Sirius . . ." He growled.

"I don't think so." Sirius said as he continued to hide behind his friend.

Remus only smiled as he watched the childish antics of the two. There had been a time that Sirius had not smiled; his humor had been so dark . . . But now, it was like Azkaban had never happened. The way he treated Draco was so tender sometimes, and so much like when James had been around at others.

"You do remember that I do not need my wand to hurt you, right Black?" Draco grounded out.

Sirius's twinkling black eyes widened in mock horror as he grabbed a hold of Remus, feeling the tendrils of manipulated magic pulling at his legs. "I won't give in. You'll never take me alive!" He called out, laughing as Draco's unspoken _Rictusempra_[5] set in.

"Yes, but no one ever said I wanted you alive, Black. Last I knew, your wanted poster said Dead or Alive. I wonder if the reward is more than ten thousand galleons now." Draco replied blankly and he released the hold of his magic, allowing Sirius to fall unceremoniously to the floor.

"Aww, now don't be like that Eclipse. You wouldn't turn in your own flesh and blood like that." Sirius said as he sat up, grinning at his younger cousin.

At that comment, Draco merely scoffed. "Sure Padfoot, keep deluding yourself." At that, he turned towards Remus, one eyebrow raised at the uncharacteristically silent man. "Is something wrong Moony? Is it the potion?"

A small smile appeared on the lycanthropes face at Draco's uncharacteristic show of emotion. "No, I'm fine Draco. Just a bit tired, but that's because I've been so busy with packing. Do you have everything ready to go? Severus will be here tomorrow at noon, so you will have to be ready to go by then."

Draco allowed a sigh of relief to escape his lips at that. Having grown up with a Godfather who was the single greatest Potions Master in Europe, Draco had always been fascinated with the work. He remembered spending time at Snape Manor in the complex state of the art labs that were hidden away, always watching his Godfather experiment with the ingredients. Thus, he had grown up enamored with the subject, yearning to learn more than even what his Godfather could share.

As time had passed at the Institute, Remus had discovered his love for the subject and enflamed it into a passion. Allowing him access to a specific lab, labeling it his, Draco had been left to his own imagination. It had only taken him a month to discover his first potion and from there it grew. Currently, though, his project was a thank you to his new found confidant. The weariness that had always been etched into Remus Lupin was caused by the lycanthropy that flowed through his veins, much like a poison. Though the Wolfsbane potion, which Draco had brewed for him since his arrival, allowed him to keep his sanity, it took his strength.

Since then, Draco had been working to make a derivative. One that not only prevented the dementia that accompanied the transformation from human to werewolf, it would prohibit the actual physical transformation. It was not a cure, as Draco had said when he had first approached Remus with a test potion in hopes to gain a test subject. There would still be the same reactions to silver, the same wolfish mind, the same increased sensitivity and such. But without the physical transformation, Draco had hypothesized that the physical exhaustion he felt so constantly would ebb away.

After quite a few trials, Draco had found it. Named the _Aconite Elixir_ [6], it was still in the experimental stages, but it was currently working. Once it had properly worked for one year, Draco would begin the long process of publicizing his work in Potions journals, registering his work with the Ministry. However, since taking the newest derivative of the potion, Remus had been revitalized.

Sending a smile to his Professor, Draco nodded. "Everything is packed. I was just finishing up the last of my potions work." Walking over to the counter, he picked up three small vials containing a blood red liquid that glinted gold in the streaming sunlight. "I went ahead and made you one more dosage of the _Aconite Elixir_. It should hold you until I can figure out how to force Sev into giving up some space in his potions laboratory for me. I also went ahead and made the next _Aqua et Ignis_ Potion [7] seeing as that would be needed soon enough as well." He said with a sigh.

A sad smile appeared on both of the older men's faces as they heard the second potions name. It was the cursed name of the potion Draco was forced to take ever since birth . . . ever since Lucius had indebted his son's life to Voldemort . . .

Feeling the growing tension of the room, Sirius moved towards his cousin. "Alright! The work's done. Now, it's our last night here, so lets make it a night to remember."

Sighing, Remus wearily began to gently rub his temples, feeling a headache coming upon him. "Padfoot, you must be joking. Last time you said that Magnus threatened to have you neutered."

A low keening whine escaped the dark haired male. With his head tilted to the side and his dark eyes wide and pleading, Sirius was the picture of his animal representative even in human form. "Moony! You wouldn't let him do that! Besides, this is our last night here. We have to leave our mark, make sure they always remember us. Just like at Hogwarts! Its not like Chris can do anything to us once we leave."

With a sigh of defeat, Remus nodded, all the while muttering. "I'm pretty sure they will remember at least some of us anyways."

With one arm around the neck of his long time friend and the other around his cousin, Sirius led the two reluctant mischief makers from the potions room, his final cry echoing through the empty hallway.

"Long live the Marauders!"

**ooOoOoo******

END NOTES:

[1] While almost everything here is true in the Harry Potter world (information provided by the Harry Potter Lexicon), the bit about Amarus Digsby is completely my own imagination. The fire color and creature are Harry Potter Lexicon stated, but the man and his feat are my own.

[2] _Signore_: Italian for 'Sir'.

[3] I honestly do not know Ron's actual eye color. And, apparently, neither does the Harry Potter Lexicon. So, I guessed.

[4] The Blessed Dragon and the Runes of Morgan LeFay will become a theme later on. So, any explanation will be gained at a later time.

[5] _Rictusempra_: The tickling charm. If you do not understand this, I am showing that Draco can unconsciously control his magic. In other words, this is wandless magic…in another form. His magic will be actually stated, discussed, and explained at another time. For now, this is just for you to get a feel for what he can do.

[6]_Aconite Elixir_: Aconite is another name for Wolfsbane, thus, creating another name for the wolfsbane potion. The effects were already given.

[7] _Aqua et Ignis_: Latin for: the necessaries of life, in prevalence to the waters. This is the potion, as discussed in the prologue that Draco has to take at certain times due to the blood magic performed by Voldemort in order to save his life as an infant.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and other characters belong to J.K. Rowling. This author makes no claim on them or any other part of the Harry Potter sensation; only the original characters, places, and plot belong to this author.

**ooOoOoo**

**WARNING:** Alternate universe. Some original characters. Future slash pairing, meaning in a male homosexual relationship. This won't show up for a while, but the warning is still here. If you don't like it, then why are you reading it?

**Pairings:** HP/DM; RW/HG

**ooOoOoo**

**..:Draconis Sanguen:..**

Chapter 4

It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that the students of Hogwarts stared at their headmaster in shock. However, it was the first time in Hogwarts history that Potions Master Severus Snape had not only missed the Sorting Ceremony, but the first day of classes. The students within the house of Gryffindor and Slytherin were most affected, as the seventh year students were scheduled to start the day off in his presence.

Those at the house of the brave and loyal had been ecstatic, joyously celebrating their once in a lifetime chance to be free of their oppressive professor and his precious students. Free of his blatant favoritism and dark glares within the confines of the cold and dark dungeon room. Ignoring the fact that they would have to attend the class soon enough, they had celebrated heavily the one missed day.

On the other side of the Great Hall, the house of the sly and ambitious quietly ate their evening meal, their minds far from the morning's altered schedule. While they each enjoyed the tutelage their Head of House provided them, the chance to be led under the eyes of one of their own, they had other things to think on rather than continuously reliving the moments lost that single morning.

The night before, after the Sorting, had been most curious. As Slytherins, they were used to picking up on the minimal hints of hesitancy in voice, the slightest of hand, anything that was out of place. It was their way of life, their rules of survival. While their Headmaster was a queer man, his constant inconsistencies, their sharp eyes were always able to see past his idiotic façade. As they were snakes, they were quite used to hiding behind the masks of society and his idiocy was just that . . . a mask.

The still empty seat beside him at the head table, the missing potions master, the canceled Defense against the Dark Arts classes, the canceled Potions classes, the unspoken words of Head Boy, the mention of advanced courses to come, the constant twinkle within his blue eyes, and now . . . the way he kept looking towards the doors so expectantly.

They could feel it in the castle, the way she shifted and settled from the depths of their Slytherin home that she was waiting. Something was coming to Hogwarts. The expectation was running through the Headmaster's veins, and thus, through the school's magic. Observant as always, the snakes had picked up on it immediately, the central group of the House politics anticipating Dumbledore's moves as if it were a game of chess.

Glancing around the Great Hall, Blaise watched as the Ravenclaws submersed themselves into their own debates, their minds racing with their ingrained knowledge. Their pride was based so heavily upon that knowledge, that intellect, that they had lost their intuition, the very thing that guided a Slytherin. The Hufflepuffs sat quietly chatting, each of the first years mixed intermittently with the higher years. Since the death of Diggory, the protection factor of the house had risen so that they always traveled in groups.

At the Gryffindor table, Blaise suppressed a shudder as he was met with a stare of toxic green orbs. Those eyes . . . Draco had once compared them to the color of _Avada Kedavra_, the Killing curse. Two days later, Draco was gone. Since then, a wall of ice had fallen between the two rival houses, the violence disappearing with their blonde leader. Instead of insults and fights, it was a chilling wall of hatred projected by Slytherin. They had always believed it was Draco's right to face off against Potter, and, without him, no one else should step in his place. Even Draco's seat at the table had remained empty. Tearing his eyes from those emerald eyes that only reflected joy and light of being happy, none of the hatred and darkness of the war, as all of the Gryffindors seemed to do, Blaise glanced at the seat next to him that had remained empty for the past two years.

A chill passed down his spine, settling at its base, causing him to jerk from his reverie. Looking up, he locked eyes with the twinkling orbs of the Headmaster. It was a look of warning and calculation, of simple pleasures and an attempt to understand from his post above them, and above all, those blue eyes foretold of knowledge. It was a puzzle that Blaise could not even begin to unravel, for at that moment, the large doors to the Great Hall slammed open, causing all head to turn and stare. A wave of magic swept through the room, causing the torches to flicker as the first figure entered the room. The Hall was silent as the two more men followed the first down the middle path of the room, the fourth figure silently trailing behind them all.

Stopping before Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy gave a small bow, his eyes never breaking from the aged wizard before him. "Headmaster." He greeted, his silky voice carrying in waves over the hall. Carefully, he eyed the others seated at the head table. "Professors." He said with a nod.

A soft smile graced Dumbledore's face as he took in the young man's new appearance. The young Malfoy now held himself with a grace unlike that of any other student. It was with utter confidence and with a proven arrogance that he stood, as if he were prepared for anything and fearless of the outcome. Unsettlingly piercing silver eyes watched behind a veil of silky silver blonde hair that gracefully fell down to his shoulder, carefully feathering his exquisite porcelain face.

From all sides of the expansive room, wide eyes took in the beautiful form that had disappeared two and a half years ago. Dressed in a pair of silvery grey snakeskin pants that hugged tightly to his thighs, flaring slightly before falling over black boots and a flowing black silk poet's shirt that was loosely laced up in the front, Draco Malfoy was no longer the boy of the past. Anyone in the room could feel the magic that emanated from him, the power the caressed his winter pale skin and sparked in his quicksilver eyes.

Behind him, Draco could feel the eyes of his peers boring into him. The comforting presence of his Godfather and Professor did little to assist in calming him, causing his magic to rise and fall with the tension that was slowly building. Yet, the sudden silky warmth underneath his trembling hand caused him to look down, his eyes falling upon the large form of his second cousin. The giant black dog stood protectively at his side, Siruis's head beneath his hand, as if reminding him of their presence. Reigning control, the wild magic of the room disappeared in an instant.

"Mr. Malfoy, I was wondering when you would arrive." Dumbledore said.

Remus let a sigh of relief escape as he felt the familiar magic disperse from the air. Silently thanking his friend, he smiled at the boy who was absent mindedly petting the animagus. Upon hearing the words of the Headmaster, he looked up, his grin widening. "That would be my fault sir." Sheepishly, he looked away from his mentor, his amber eyes staring at his shoes instead.

Beside him, Severus Snape scoffed as he slid the hood away from his face and removed the outer cape. "Yes, Headmaster," the Potions Master said scathingly "we decided a trip through the Dead Forest during the Re'em (1) birthing season would be most educational for young Lord Malfoy."

A dark blush covered Remus's cheeks at Severus's dark glare. "I didn't mean to set the Portkey for the Dead Forest." He hissed before jerking his eyes from the seething stare of his fellow professor. Looking back up the amused headmaster, Remus spoke quietly. "My utmost apologies for not arriving yesterday as we had planned Headmaster."

Dumbledore simply waved off the once Gyffindor's apologies with a smile. "Think nothing of it Remus. You and Severus may take your seats with the professors now." With a nod, he watched as the two made their way behind the table, leaving the blonde to stand alone, with only the large Grim look alike beside him.

"Mister Malfoy, I would like to welcome you back to Hogwarts." Dumbledore said with a genial smile. "Now, if you will, I believe we should sort you."

Immediately, the entire House of Slytherin was on their feet in protest. Their voices echoed through the Hall objecting to the action. However, as Draco's slim hand rose, they were silenced. With a nod, he took the old hat into his hands and moved it onto his head. Just as the first time he had word the hat, the cry of "Slytherin" rang through the room before it had even touched his silvery blonde locks.

Nodding wisely, the Headmaster retrieved the hat from the student, his eyes twinkling merrily at the heavy sound of applause from the Slytherin table. "One last thing before you take your seat, Mister Malfoy." The old wizard said as he withdrew a folded piece of parchment from his robes. Upon the parchment was a pin. "I believe congratulations are in order."

Standing, he addressed the entirety of Hogwarts. "Some of you may not recognize the young man who stands before you, so I introduce you all to Draco Malfoy, this year's Head Boy." Once more the Slytherin table erupted into tumulus applause. "He has returned to Hogwarts after two years abroad, bringing back knowledge from many parts of the world. I hope that House boundaries will not stop you from taking advantage of a chance at learning from his experiences." With a nod, he was dismissed.

Smirking, Draco gracefully made his way to the Slytherin table, seating himself next to his childhood best friend, Blaise Zabini. Locking eyes with his long time companions, his flashed a rare true smile, his shoulder brushing with that of his best friend in reassurance of his appearance.

"Now, I would like to introduce you all to your Defense against the Dark Arts professor, Remus Lupin, who has returned to us after three years. The other professor is Severus Snape, our resident Potions Master. Now, for those who have a place on their schedule for Advanced Magiks, you will be taught by a combination of professors. However, this course is led by Professor Lupin as well."

With that, dinner resumed.

For once, the Slytherins were unable to hold back their smiles as the familiar presence of their childhood friend returned. Draco oddly felt relieved as he dished food onto his plate. Back at the Institute, the majority of his meals were taken in his rooms, the Lab, the Headmaster's office, or in Moony's chambers. The few times that he had eaten in the dining hall had been a horror, especially at the beginning. Those first few weeks . . . the memories were still so fresh in his mind.

_Two weeks._

_Two weeks of the glares, the laughter, and the words that followed his every move. Never once were those words whispered softly to trail behind him, but always spoken boldly, daring him to speak out against their version of the truths._

_The blackened words against his father and his mother taunting his steps, causing him to contain the anger that threatened to flood his senses. Half moon prints permanently bore into his palms from the force he had applied to restraining himself. _

_Yet, he continued on. Every day he moved about his business, watching the other students' camaraderie, a bond that he would never become integrated within. He carelessly cast his sneers towards his fellow students, hiding the loneliness that had begun to blossom. _

_He had tried to show everyone that their hate of him was no matter, that they could not hurt him. However, instead of discouraging them, things only got worse._

_On that particular day, sitting in the refettorio (__2)__, Draco pushed around the food that was placed before him. He had never been one to eat much, however, his appetite had decreased, especially as he sat, surrounded by the entire school that hated him with such a passion. Using his fork to artfully arrange the food that still remained upon his plate, the same amount that had been there in the beginning – minus two or three small bites, Draco was overcome with a wave of dizziness. _

_Rubbing his temples, the Malfoy heir attempted to blink back the darkness that threatened to envelope his world, only to watch as the colors of the world swam into monochrome shades of grey. His head pounded and his heart raced as sweat poured down his face and a cold chill raced over his body. Draco's stomach churned as he pushed the plate of food away from him, the once pleasant aromas sending his stomach reeling. Looking up through pain filled eyes, watching as the world faded away in a roar of pain, Draco's final vision was that of pleasure filled smiles chased by pain filled eyes._

_Awakening with a gasp, Draco quickly emptied the meager contents of his stomach into the conveniently placed bin. Laying back, his eyes closed, he breathed deeply, clearing his mind. Unsure of his whereabouts, he cautiously opened a single eye, only to bite back a deep moan as the pounding within his head increased. Weakly, Draco brought his hand to his temple and slowly massaged the sensitive points, hoping to soothe the fiery pain._

_The last thing the young Malfoy could remember was the pain that had cascaded over him as he had eaten his dinner. Yet, the soft support beneath him and stillness of the atmosphere around him foretold that he was no longer in the school's dinning area, but most likely in that of the infirmary. With a bitter thought, Draco almost wished he would open his eyes to see Madame Pomphrey frowning at him once more, dressing him down for his exaggerated stories of pain and illness. Swallowing the acrid taste of bile that remained upon his tongue, the teenager knew he would prefer to be faking injury as in the days of old._

_The close presence of another person brought his attention forward, stealing his mind from distant memories of the castle that had become home to him. Curious at who would come to see him and hesitant to another attempt at opening his eyes, he cautiously peered through barely open eyelids. The shadow cast by his 'visitor' blocked the light that had sent his head reeling before, allowing him to open his silver orbs wider._

"_He's awake." A deep voice called softly._

_Presented with a distorted image of what he would guess to be a man, Draco attempted to blink away his blurred images. Yet, as the indistinguishable view refused to give way to a clear and precise sight, Draco's breathing picked up, his heart racing with the inability to see anything more than shadows._

_A heavy hand fell upon his shoulder, holding him down as he sought to scramble from the unfamiliar bed, as the same voice he had heard upon awakening spoke quietly to him, calming him with rich dulcet tones. "Hush, Young Master Malfoy. Relax with my voice and let the warmth envelope you. You are safe here, Draco. There is nothing to worry about. Forget about it all, simply let go of it all. Things will be better soon, drago (__3)__, just let us take care of it all." With his words, warmth surged about him, creating a cocoon of protection around his achingly thin body._

_Sinking into the gentle waves, Draco could hear the distant voices around him. They seemed so far away, as if they were in another world, discussing a topic that was of no concern of his. _

"_What happened to him Magnus?"_

_A deep sigh reverberated. "He has no protection Remus. At Hogwarts, he had his house, his father, his friends, his 'thugs', and, as strange as this is going to sound, Lord Voldemort. Everything was a piece of the puzzle that we are only beginning to piece together. But here, he has been stripped of it all. He only has himself. These halls are full of enemies, but no allies, and last night declared open season on the boy."_

"_That is enough walking around the subject, sir. It would be a bit more helpful to simply state what you mean."_

"_It was poison, Lupin." A sharp intake of breath punctuated the other man's words. "And not just any potion either. You could not even buy this one from Boia Strada (__4)__. Its ingredients are far too rare for any common potions maker or even a master to obtain without the influences of those more inclined to break the rules here in Italy."_

"_What potion was it, Direttore? And if it's so damn hard to find, how did this happen?"_

_A bitter laugh escaped the man's lips. "Nettare nero di Inferno_ (_5)__." He whispered. "A poison brewed by our very own students, Professor, just as they were taught by our very own Potions Master Ombra. All of the ingredients are in her store rooms and, before you begin your rant, the poison is the first step in creating three of the strongest healing potions in Southern Europe. So, no, I can not have it removed from the curriculum."_

_Draco could hear every word, yet they seemed insignificant as he floated in the protective circle of healing energy emitted from the warm arms above him. He could tell that their hushed tones concerned him; however, it was of no concern to him. The past, the present, even the future was of no matter as long as the warmth was there to guide and protect him._

"_So someone poisoned Mr. Malfoy right in front of us. Can we trace it or anything?"_

"_Oh, it can be traced. Magic is required to make the first half, meaning the potion maker's magic is ingrained in the poison, which is in turn ingrained in Draco's blood. However, it is not that simple. The maker is not necessarily the culprit and besides . . . for us to handle this incident will only show the student population that Draco is weak. The boy has to prove that he is strong, that he belongs here. They are testing him."_

"_What do you mean? You are going to let them get away with this like nothing ever happened? Who knows what will happen next!"_

"_So concerned for your newest charge Remus?" The Direttore asked, his voice on edge. "And here I was under the impression that you disliked the boy. After all, his parentage is of greater persuasion where you come from than here in Italy, yet the students here, as far from the war that brews in England that they are, hate him and everything he represents."_

_A lengthy pause followed his condescending words, allowing Draco to feel the steady beat of the heart that pulsed with the magic that surrounded him. Slowly he was becoming more aware of his surroundings as the magic purified his body. With the new awareness, understanding followed._

_In a tight voice, Remus replied. "I will never allow personal beliefs or feelings interfere with my job."_

"_Of course not." Magnus replied genially. "But I do believe I have made this speech to you before, Lupin. I am not Albus Dumbledore and this is not Hogwarts. I do not police these halls nor do I intend to protect my students from the reality of life. When he came here, Draco was placed onto a path that would lead either to greatness or to destruction. Now, I believe he will make it to greatness, but he **cannot **do that if I pave his way as his father has done thus far. It is time for him to make his own mistakes, to resolve his own conflicts. I will guide him, but the choices and actions must ultimately be his own. And, then, he will show us that power that brought him here rather than the weakness his parentage has cultivated."_

"_And what of the decisions of your other students, Direttore, is this the decision of greatness as well?" Remus asked as he gestured to Draco._

"_Not everyone is on the path to greatness, Remus. However, they will help to carve the path. I will not remove every stone from Draco's road so that his ride is smooth as Dumbledore tries to do for Harry Potter. Because in the end, those little stones are supporting something much greater, and when they are removed, the larger ones will fall, causing even more harm. Have you not understood this already? Seen this already? Instead, I will let him build himself stronger and learn. I am not his father, Lupin. I am his mentor."_

"_And what if he's not even alive to make those decisions, Direttore? What then?" _

_Draco's silvery orbs slowly opened and watched as the raven haired headmaster shook his head in frustration at his inability to get through to the werewolf. Glancing down, he slowly withdrew from the newly conscious boy. "If you believe that I or even he would allow that to happen, you are even blinder than I believed. Now, Draco, how do you feel?"_

_Clearing his throat, Draco attempted to speak, only to find his words lost. With a nod of understanding, Direttore Magnus handed him a glass of water. Quickly swallowing the cool substance, allowing reprieve to his parched throat, Draco once again attempted to speak finding it easier this time around. "I am a little sore but otherwise fine, sir."_

"_Good. I'm sure you'll want to rest, so we will discuss what occurred at a later time." With that, the older man stood gracefully and began his way to the door only to pause, turning ever so slightly. "Oh, and congratulations, young Master Malfoy. What may have been a vicious prank has proved to place you in a very elite sect of magic here at the Institute. I'll expect to see you in my office at eight o'clock tomorrow morning for class."_

"_Thank you sir . . . but why your office, if you do not mind me asking?"_

_With a smirk, the man turned, his words falling upon the two British as he departed. "Because I will be your Professor."_

The explanation was like nothing he had received before. The _Nettare nero di Inferno,_ or Black Nectar of Hell, potion was created in Italy specifically for the assassination of public officials. It was said that consorts and wives would create it and use it to slowly kill their husbands and lovers in order to escape their abusive relationships. The potion could be mixed with food or beverage and the taste would be unnoticeable, and with the proper foods, the magical properties of the poison would be completely covered, making it untraceable.

In lower dosages it would simply make the affected severely sick, wracked with tremors, suffering from night sweats, fever, nausea, loss of appetite, headaches, dizziness, weakness, magical drain, fatigue, and an assortment of other symptoms. Yet, as the dosage increased, they would be affected with paralysis, kidney failure, liver failure, stroke, heart attack, and eventual death. However, Draco had only eaten a few small bites of food that night, meaning the dosage of the potion had to have been incredibly high. Knowing that, Draco had taken to assuring that nothing he touched or consumed was contaminated with anything that could come back to haunt him. His lesson had been learned.

With a shaky hand, he withdrew his wand from the interior of his sleeve. With a wave of his wand and the whispered words, _Indicatus Contaminatio _(6), a silvery aura surrounded his plate before fading. Nodding, Draco lifted his fork. Yet, before the food could reach his lips, he could feel the questioning eyes of many boring into him. Glancing up, he was met with the stares of his house, his professors, the Headmaster, and many other students.

Silver eyes narrowed into slits towards those outside of his house, sending their gazes elsewhere in seconds. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to his food. However, a keening whine broke through the silence of his table before he could even attempt to take a bite of his dinner. Turning his head, he was met with the dark eyes of the animagus form of his cousin. Those same watery eyes drifted towards the piles of steaming food that littered the table. His canine mouth slightly open, a line of drool falling from it, Sirius was clearly making a statement about his desires.

Sighing, he moved closer to Blaise, making room beside him for the creature, after all, no relative of his would eat off of the floor. With another wave of his wand, he conjured another plate to the table. Tilting his head, he studied the flat porcelain surface. Glancing back and forth between the pleading dog and the plate, Draco debated. The linear surface of a plate would not be suitable for a dog's snout, as he had learned much earlier, and a bowl would be too small and awkward. Waving his wand, he transfigured the plate into a rather deep dish, keeping the same width of the plate. Leaning over the table, he began to fill it with food, knowing just what his cousin liked. Without thought, he cast the same spell as before, upon the food, before nodding and setting it upon the bench.

With a fond pat to his cousin's head, he picked up a bowl and poured pumpkin juice into it as well and placed it beside the plate. "Is that to your satisfaction Snuffles?" He asked the dog. A well placed bark rang out in the hall, causing the lower year Slytherins to laugh good naturedly at the pampered dog. With a canine grin, his snout was quickly buried into the meal.

Placing his wand back into his sleeve, Draco turned back to his meal, intent on eating, his other hand absently reaching over to carefully stroke the luxurious fur of his canine companion. All the while, lost in his thoughts, he was ignorant to a pair of toxic green eyes that watched from afar.

**ooOoOoo**

In the cool recesses of the castle, far from the prying eyes, the Slytherins had gathered together in their common room. Centered on their returned leader, their cold facades had melted away, and within their protected coven, their true personalities had come out to play. The younger years were playing random games separate from the seventh years that had congregated together so closely as the others lay about, taking long looks at the prodigal Slytherin.

"Well Draco, now can you tell us where you've been all this time?" Pansy asked impatiently, shooting a playful glare at her childhood friend.

Flashing a benevolent smile that sent many hearts reeling, Draco casually thought the question through, his eyes dancing with laughter. "Nope."

"Draco!" Pansy screeched, immediately moving to slap him, only to find herself out of reach as he moved to sit beside Theodore Nott. Not wanting to move, she sat back and sulked. "Why the hell not then?"

"Seriously, I am not permitted to say where I have been. I can say very little about what has happened these past years." A flash of sadness flickered over his metallic orbs as the weight of his words settled over his audience, the atmosphere darkening.

Steady tanzanite orbs regarded the Malfoy heir carefully before asking. "So what can you tell us?"

Draco immediately looked towards Blaise, the one who, if one were to hold the label, was his best friend. The two had struggled to continue their friendship, especially seeing as the Zabini Family was a neutral family to the Cause, while the Malfoys were avidly anti-Muggle. "Very little." Looking him straight in the eye, he continued. He knew the weight his words would carry. "I was not off getting the dark mark or recruiting for the Dark Lord in America. I was not signing treaties for him in the North and I definitely was not warming his bed. I was not heralding dark creatures from the East and I was not searching for a way to defeat Harry Potter once and for all."

At this, a single dark brow raised in a fashion much like Draco's own usually did. "Oh, alright, alright. Of course I was still working on defeating Potter, but you know what I mean. All of that tabloid shite about me and the Dark Lord . . . none of it was true. You all know that. I can't tell you where I was and I can't tell you what I was doing. The security down there is bloody tight. I can't even tell you what they did to ensure that I do not speak a word about it."

"But I can tell you this. I did not want to go. Hell, I'm pretty sure you have all heard from your parents that _**He** _is looking for me. I tried to at least return for the funerals, but I was not allowed because of safety measures. Trust me, I would have rather stayed here and dealt with Potter and Voldemort for two years than live in that Hell for a month."

Having been silent the entire time, Tracey finally spoke, her deadened voice carrying silently. "So that bullshit from the Headmaster, about you bringing knowledge from other parts of the world . . . its just bullshit? How are you going to fake that if people do come around asking? And why did Dumbledore step in and protect you?"

Draco immediately scoffed at that remark. "Trace! Don't tell me all this time I've been away has destroyed all of your sense of propriety. You know that no Slytherin needs a Gryffindor to cover their trail . . . especially Dumbledore. He actually believes that I have been abroad and in a sense that is true." Draco said with a wink. "As for what I learned, I do not need to fake anything."

"So you were abroad." Theodore said quietly from beside Draco.

Loosing all of the joy from his face he put an arm around the frail boy. "Yes." He revealed. "I was."

"Was it as beautiful as they all say?" He asked, his eyes bright with repressed curiosity, his spirit closed off from the abuse he had suffered by the hands of his father.

Silver eyes gazed far away from the Slytherin common room. "Yeah Theo, it was just as beautiful as everyone says. It was perfect."

"I wish I could have been there." Pansy said wistfully from her perch on the side.

"Me too." Theo commented quietly, looking steadily at the floor.

Haunted eyes gazed into the flickering green flames of the Slytherin fire. Yes, the scenery at the Institute had been breathtaking, as had the surrounding city of Venice. With its mysterious history at the student's fingertips, the costal city had enveloped the English native with its beauty. The radiance of the land, however, was not enough to outshine the shadows of the life within the walls of the prison named his school.

A sharp elbow found its way to his midsection. "Oh, yeah," He said with a sigh, looking around at his friends, "it would have been great with all of you there."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at the Prince of Slytherin strangely from their silent post by the younger years where they watched over them silently. Tracy's dead eyes trailed over the young Malfoy as well as her dry voice echoed the thoughts of their close group. "You might want to practice that a few more times before you attempt to lie to us, Draconis Malfoy. Apparently wherever you have been, you haven't had to lie very much because you've grown a bit rusty at it. Practice makes perfect you know."

"_You might have been something special where you come from Malfoy, but here, you are nothing but fodder."_

_A dark leer crossed the looming form's face as he leaned closer, pushing Draco's thin body harshly into the sharp edges of the stone wall. A heavy hand closed tightly over his pale throat, slowly and carefully cutting off his oxygen as the other hand drifted towards his face, gently caressing the fine silvery strands of hair and trailing over his stoic face._

_A heavy laugh surrounded him, words echoing through the corridor filled with smirking spectators. "Learn your place here, Malfoy, and maybe you'll survive. After all, practice makes perfect."_

_With that, crushing pressure was applied to his windpipe sending waves of pain crashing through him, sending him gratefully into unknowing darkness._

Beside him, Theo peered innocently up at Draco, carefully leaning onto his knee to gaze at his face carefully. Though innocent, he understood pain as well as any of the other Slytherins. "Was it really all that bad Draco? I mean, it couldn't have been all that bad. You got to escape the war for two years and learn all sorts of new exciting things. I bet you could even defeat Potter in a duel without using Dark Arts now, right Draco!"

Caught within the torrent of memories, Draco barely heard his innocent friend's words. However, the understanding was there. The trade was made, the war for the wand, knowing all the while he would return. Growing up, he had been thought that power was supreme. But this time around, the silent Slytherin thought not noticing the worried looks his friends exchanged as he numbly studied his hands, did the end justify the means?

_A heavy body pressed against him, pushing his face further against the stone wall as fiery pain raced through his body . . . _

_Fire slowly consumed him as the poison raced through his body, the high dosage consuming his organs, racing against the time . . ._

_Feet pounded against the Persian rugs that decorated the wing of the Institute as he raced from the boys, searching for the familiar quarters that would give him safety . . ._

_Hands upon him stole any safety that he had ever felt, stealing away the last shred of himself that he could actually call his own . . ."You are nothing Malfoy. Nothing." Came the whisper of harsh reality._

_Harsh punches echoed across the corridor as they landed, destroying flesh . . ._

_Flesh landed harshly upon stone, leaving their bloody prints as anger swelled within . . ._

Was it all that bad, Theodore had asked?

_Magic welled within him, spurned on by the anger and despair that consumed him for so long. His improper blood trilled as it echoed the arrival of an inheritance never expected, never thought possible. A preventable destiny blossoming within the halls of its master's degradation. A haze of silver appeared healing his injuries, preparing him to take back everything that had been stolen, in flesh, blood and pain if necessary. And, as he stood within the empty corridor, his blood upon the stones and his maniacal silver orbs glowing in the moonlight, he now knew just where to start._

No, it was not **all** that bad.

**ooOoOoo**

(1) Re'em: A fierce, fast, indomitable, monster. Giant in size and indescribable because no one knows what they look like. Information from Encylopedia Mythica.

(2) _refettorio_: Italian for Dining Hall.

(3) _drago: _Italian for dragon.

(4) _Boia Strada_: Italian for Hangman Way. This is the Venetian equivalent for Knockturn Alley.

(5) _Nettare nero di Inferno_: Italian for Black Nectar of Hell.

(6)_ Indicatus_ _Contaminatio_: A spell that indicates or exposes any contamination such as poison.

**ooOoOoo**

There were some questions in the reviews that have been answered below:

_Is Draco's nickname (Eclipse) going to be explained?_ In time, yes. I'm a writer who loves to drop the tiniest clues of things in places that you will never guess. I want the reader to read something chapters later and think back and remember where they first saw the clues.

_Does this mean that Draco is stronger than Harry?_ _Since Draco is so powerful, how does Harry match to him?_ I have not said anything on a comparison of strengths really, and I probably won't. You may assume what you like, but to paraphrase 'Silence of the Lambs' "to assume is to make an ass out of you and me." I believe that every power is different of its own and is therefore incomparable. Can one compare the power of to create potions with great skill to the power used to torture people for hours on end without exhaustion? Therefore, when I present the true power that Draco has come into, I will allow you to decide on whether you believe it to be more powerful than Harry's or not. However, I implore you to remember that I refuse to write this as if any person's power were without flaw.

_When are we going to see more of Harry/Draco?_ I honestly have no clue. I am writing this as I go and I definitely dislike rushing into anything. I believe that relationships are best founded upon a basis of friendship and structured with trust. Obviously, both characters are going to have major issues to sort out. But don't worry, I'll think of something.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, its characters, locations, and themes belong to J.K. Rowling and Scholastic Books. This author makes no claim on them or any other part of the Harry Potter sensation; only the original characters, places, and plot belong to this author.

**ooOoOoo**

**AN: **Alright, so I'm back with chapter five. I give a great amount of thanks to my new beta reader Moonglow-girl. Without her, this chapter would have taken far longer. As for answering questions asked in the reviews, you'll find your answers at the end of the chapter. Enjoy.

**Beta: **Moonglow-girl

**WARNING:** Alternate universe. Some original characters. Future slash pairing, meaning in a male homosexual relationship. This won't show up for a while, but the warning is still here. If you don't like it, then why are you reading it?

**Pairings:** HP/DM; RW/HG

**ooOoOoo**

**..:Draconis Sanguen:..**

Chapter 5

Year hardened eyes bore into the impenetrable shell of Albus Dumbledore as he moved to his seat at the head of the Hogwart's Staff table. He had been careful to avoid this moment for as long as he could, yet there were only so many times that he could offer lemon drops and shuffle through the parchments that were waiting silently upon the table. Perhaps, had the meeting occurred within the relative comfort of his office, he could have conversed a bit with his portraits or Fawkes, and maybe even 'accidentally' dug up some long outdated paperwork that was suddenly important, twenty years after the fact, of course. Anything would have been better than facing his staff now.

Or would that be: Anything would have been better than facing Minerva McGonagall now?

He would never regret his choice for Deputy Headmistress; however, he had made a few rather important decisions without her consultation, as well as ignored her suggestions on other subjects. While she was rather lenient with him, understanding that he had a reason for what he did, she would not appreciate being ignored so blatantly this time.

Blue eyes twinkling merrily, Dumbledore smiled at his staff. "All here?" He asked absently. "Good. Now then, shall we begin?"

**ooOoOoo**

The Gryffindor House was in shock. They had been completely unprepared for the events of the evening and no warning could have properly prepared them for the return of Gryffindor's number one loathed enemy, Draco Malfoy. After dinner in the Great Hall had finished, the students had hurried back to their common room, where the famous Golden Trio, joined by their fellow friends, fell to their seats, staring at one another. It was none other than Ron Weasley who broke the silence.

"Bloody hell." He said, articulate as always.

Beside him, Hermione rolled her eyes. As unprepared as she may have been, she was not necessarily shocked. When Draco Malfoy had left Hogwarts two years before, she never allowed herself to believe it would be the last she would see of him. And now, after seeing him, she could feel that a lot of things had changed from the years before, for better or worse still unknown.

Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, was silently shocked. His school rival had returned after leaving a void in his life for so long. Much to his ire, he had missed the blonde annoyance, if only due to the consistency Malfoy provided within a constantly chaotic world. Yet, when Malfoy failed to return for fifth and sixth year, Harry had truly felt that vacancy. Quidditch was definitely not the same, never holding the same challenge, not even the same spark without the insults and vigor when it was time for the Slytherin match. Even the House Cup competition had lost its shine.

Something had left with Malfoy and Harry had yet to figure out what it was. And then, the arrogant prat comes striding right back into Hogwarts like he owns it with no excuses and takes over once more. In two years, the other wizard had not changed, though Harry never would have expected him to. He was still the same cold, egotistical Slytherin that had left, except this time there was the power.

Oh yes, the power. It was the same thing he felt each time he entered Dumbledore's office, the times he had faced Voldemort, and, now that he was older, he same thing he tasted rolling off of himself when he was angry or emotional. Yet, on Malfoy, it was so different, it was so controlled, yet controlling, almost inhuman. How Draco Malfoy had gotten so powerful in two years, he was going to find out, or else his name wasn't Harry Potter.

"Mate?"

"Oh, yeah Ron?"

"Thought I lost you there for a minute." Ron said with a fond smile.

"No, Ron. I was just thinking…"

From behind a book, Hermione's ears perked at the carefully thoughtful tone of voice her best friend was using. Looking up, she watched as his emerald eyes darkened contemplatively. With a knowing smile, she sat the thick volume down and leaned forward. "Well, seeing as it is the first day back and all, I would usually think it's too early for our yearly mystery. But since this is our last year and we have NEWTs coming up, I think we should get started as soon as possible so we have plenty of time for revision in between all the chaos."

Harry simply laughed at the familiarity of his friend's words while Ron stared at his girlfriend in a mixture of horror and admiration. "Revision for the NEWTs already? Are you mad?"

Sniffing indignantly, Hermione leveled a gaze at the red haired Gryffindor. "Of course not. These are the most important exams we will take and I don't care what You-Know-Who has planned, I'm not going to let it interfere with my revision plans and you shouldn't either. Now, Harry, what is it?"

Sheepishly, Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at his friends. "It's nothing really. I was just thinking about some stuff. Nothing really important." Emerald orbs avoided blue and chocolate.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in thought, then, leaning over her friend, placed a gentle hand upon his. "Harry, the last time You-Know-Who personally attacked you was two years ago, right before Malfoy disappeared. Now, after all this time, he's back. You can feel it, can't you? That something is different…"

Harry sighed, burying his face in his hands. "Yeah, 'Mione. Malfoy is back and we don't know why. Something is definitely different and we don't know what."

Ron's hand fell supportively upon his friend's shoulder. "Well, it looks like it's up to us to figure out the answers then."

Hermione laughed at the twinkle in his eyes and gently ruffled his red locks. "Nothing new really, except this time, we're going to have to keep more of an eye on Malfoy than usual. We can formulate a plan tomorrow, but I'm going to head off to bed for now. You two better head up as well."

Farewells were exchanged between friends and Harry quickly exited, leaving the couple to their own private goodbyes as he made his way to his own bed. Yet, his mind could help but turn over those questions.

How did Malfoy become so powerful?

Just how powerful was he?

And why was he back?

…Especially now…when he had not even returned for his own parents' funerals?

**ooOoOoo**

He could still remember that day so clearly.

It was a clear September day. One of those days that had even the most studious looking out the windows anticipating the time that class ends, simply so they can join the Institute's more selective avian species in the sky. Draco was no exception as he sat surrounded by ancient volumes of text, in one of the private towers of the school under the severe gaze of the Headmaster.

Each time his grey eyes lifted from the carefully chalked runes he placed upon the floor, lifting towards the high windows of the tower room, a sharp cough would echo. Reaching for yet another text, Draco blinked his eyes, attempting to concentrate on the subject at hand as he scoured the book for yet another long forgotten symbol.

Pushing back a stray strand of hair, he carefully drew the desired rune before stepping back to examine the finished product. Scowling, he bent over to rub away the center rune before reaching for yet another text. The yellowed pages were brittle in his hand, yet the power of the tomes that surrounded him was palpable. Finding the desired character, he quickly replaced the previous with what he had found.

Quicksilver orbs focused upon the larger circle of characters before turning towards the inner circle, carefully reading the runes he had diligently written. With a sharp nod in self affirmation, he leaned down once more, carefully drawing a circle in the center of the design with a pentacle incased in its smooth lines. Another circle in between the two rings of runes was quickly added and, with a smile of satisfaction, the entire design was encased with the third and final circle. As the final four sealing runes were quickly added to the four corners of the circle, a silver haze escaped the now lit carefully drawn lines.

Smiling, Draco looked up at the Direttore in satisfaction only to see the young man speaking with an older, stately gentleman that Draco did not recognize in hushed tones. He had only been at the school for three months, but the training he had undergone thus far had been far more substantial and intense than any before. The students at the Institute were no kinder, his treatment getting worse as each day passed. Any hope he had that his appearance here would blow over and he would be forgotten was lost in the onslaught of hatred from his classmates. The fact that he was the sole student of the Direttore was not making him any more popular. Most of his classes had him researching in the library or working alone, none having a proper title or text book. His only two actual classes found him within the vast classrooms, studying alongside his fellow classmates in Manipulating Magicks and Falsifying Facts.

Yet, despite falling into something of a routine, he was still an outsider. No student would be caught dead speaking to him. The professors had no respect for him or his magic. Most avoided him in hopes not to get their hands dirty in dealing with his problems. And worst of all, due to the high security of the Venetian Institute of Advanced Magic, he was unable to contact anyone from England and his former life. It was up to Severus Snape to give his excuses to his parents, relaying messages and presents between the separated family members. And now that it was September, Draco knew that his fellow Slytherins would be worried as well.

Sighing, he leaned against a desk and waited, watching as Direttore Magnus bid farewell to their visitor, his midnight blue eyes darkening to navy as he turned, releasing a heavy breath. Glancing over the completed set of runes upon the floor as he approached his apprentice, he gave a slight smile as he kneeled by the glowing form. His long fingers lightly traced over the runes, unaffected by the active magic they now contained.

"Now, Draco, tell me why you chose these particular runes. We've already discussed how different sets of runes can be utilized, as well as the many different sets found in Europe, why did you select these?"

Silver grey eyes narrowed in thought as he contemplated the elder's words seriously. He had learned from previous lessons that not all explanations were textbooks, but most were more centered on the practitioner's instinct; however, the Direttore would require an answer no matter what. Haltingly, he began. "I'm not really sure, sir. This set simply called to me. There was something about the simplicity of the characters, yet the complexity of the magicks they intertwine that seem to focus my magic well."

Magnus simply nodded in understanding. "Personally, I would not have chosen this set; however, if you believe it is best, it must be. I have told you since we began to trust your instincts. I am happy to see that you are following my advice. Now, shall we try this out?"

A frown bloomed over the younger man's face as he gazed at the active rune. "Sir . . ."

"Come now, Draconis, surely you are confident in your own skill. If it is not successful, we will simply begin again. Now, let's try." Picking up a black stone, he tossed the dull fragment of coal into the center of the rune and watched as the silver mist enveloped it, the stone disappearing from sight. Smiling, he turned to his student. "A successful transportation."

"Direttore…" Draco began hesitantly, staring at his still activated rune. "Why do this, sir? Our wands allow us to simply banish items and transport items with a mere spell, yet you had me sit here and draw the runes and create a specific form in order to do the same thing a two second spell would have done. What was the point?"

Settling himself into a nearby chair, Magnus steadily looked into Draco's questioning eyes. "For every path in life, there is an easy way and a difficult way. On the surface, the two paths may seem to grant the same result; yet, layers deep, there is a difference. Change every third rune appropriately and activate it once more, Draconis, and see for yourself the difference of these two paths."

With steady hands, the student did as he was bid before touching the rune. The silver haze was stronger, disappearing in an instant, leaving the rune to surround a perfect sparkling diamond. In awe, Draco hesitantly lifted the gem from the floor, carefully looking it over for flaws, finding none.

"For those that travel the path less taken, the more difficult road, the pressure that drives the individual is harder, the challenges faced are all the more painful, yet the passion that each obstacle is faced with burns brighter than any flame. Because the individual chose to take the difficult path, they strive harder to prove themselves and face the most difficult quandary with that determination. Just as this diamond was formed with intense pressure and scorching heat, the most difficult path is met with the same. Yet the product is amazing, changed from a dull piece of black rock to the strongest substance on Earth, with unmatched value and beauty. Despite the harshness of path, it is the end result we look toward, is it not?"

"It's flawless, Direttore, so utterly perfect."

"Never, Draco. Nothing that has been to Hell and back comes back unscathed. Its scars, however, are hidden from the world and used to enhance its beauty, rather than defile it. Now, put it where you will not loose it. You have done well today."

With a nod, Draco carefully pocketed the gem before turning to his teacher for a dismissal.

Graceful fingers slowly massaged an aching temple as the school's young leader beckoned his student forward. With a gentle touch, he brushed the silvery blonde hair from the boy's face and cupped the maturing face with the palms of his hands. "You have chosen the path less taken, may the ancient Gods bless you along your journey and may peace be found at the divided roads end."

Eyes narrowed in confusion as Draco remained still in the Direttore's strong grip. Despite the bright sun outside, a chill raced down his spine as the stormy eyes of his foreign mentor drilled through his soul. Yet, as strong hands abruptly released him, Draco stumbled back, his eyes wide as he watched his Italian headmaster close his eyes and calm his breathing.

A soft apology sounded through the ancient room as Magnus looked back at his student, a sorrowful smile appearing as he knelt before the young man, clasping the young Malfoy's hands in his own. "My apologies, Master Malfoy." A quick finger lay over the boy's protesting lips. "Yes, Draco, today marks the beginning of your choices that will lead you to the end. Today, you became Master Malfoy. You are no longer the heir of the Malfoy fortune, but the Master of the Malfoy fortune and future. Your father was found dead. Intelligence says that he was given a three month limit to secure your location. His failure was considered inexcusable, and, thus, punishable by execution."

Silver eyes glistened with unanswered questions and tears as they pleaded with the kneeling man. A youthful mouth opened and closed before opening once more, as the mask that had slowly disappeared over the three months at the Institute reappeared. "A-And my Mother? What of her?"

"She is still alive and well. The vaults are still open to her, so she is still well financially. Rumors have it that she is with child; I have no confirmation, though. Your father's funeral will be held in one week; however, I must refuse you leave." Midnight blue eyes closed with those words.

Silver eyes raged with flames of hurt and indignation, blanketed with sorrow and grief. "Yes, sir. It is as you wish, sir." He said stiffly as he caustically removed his hands from the Direttore's hold. "If you will excuse me, I will return to my quarters now." Sharply turning, his back perfectly straight, his gait clipped, Draco began his exit.

"Meet me tomorrow, in the Eastern Gardens, after your Falsifying Facts lecture. Do not be late, Draconis."

Gritting his teeth, Draco forced himself to swallow his anger before nodding and exiting the room. Once outside the thick wooden door of the tower, the crystalline tears that had been at war with his pride broke through the barriers of his soul and began their slow descent. Sinking to his knees on this chilly marble floor, Draco brought his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. His face buried in his knees, no thought to his reputation as a Malfoy or a student, he allowed his grief to pour through.

The sobs of the broken student echoed through the abandoned hallways, while the occasional cheer from the untouched children outside the school's walls broke through, chilling the Malfoy's heart even more.

**ooOoOoo**

"It must have been nice to be free from all of this responsibility." Blaise Zabini softly said as he seated himself upon the lush grass by the lake, his blue-violet eyes never looking at his silent friend. "I mean, here in England, you are the Master of a prestigious family, leader of the _secret _Slytherin rebellion, head boy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, poster boy for aristocracy, and heir to the pureblood revolution." Grabbing a stone, he gently skimmed it over the surface of the lake, watching as it skipped into the darkness. "Why didn't you ever tell us you were Voldemort's heir?"

Motionless, Draco stared at his mirror image in the lake's water. "Do you see me Blaise?" He softly asked. "I see a Malfoy here," he pointed to the water's image, "and I know there is a Malfoy here," he pointed to himself, "but which one is real?" Fingers dipped into the water, sending ripples through the image, distorting the reflection. "Is it that I am heir to one thing that makes me who I am? Is it my talents, my acknowledgements, or my awards that make me this person? If that is so, I deny them all so that I am a mere reflection of the person I give them to. Let me be the person, not the titles that are given to this body."

"Hey, I was just playing, 'Co." Blaise replied with a strained smile. Leaning his head back, his eyes closed, he listened to the cicadas in the distance. Peering at the stars through slit eyes, he whispered. "It doesn't matter, you know. None of us care; we just wish you had told us. We know that you want to protect us from _Him_, from everyone and everything that comes with our position in the War, but if anything, these past months have taught us that you take too much upon yourself. You can not watch out for all of us and yourself at the same time. _He_ wants you by his side with such desperation and soon he'll know that you are here at Hogwarts, if he doesn't know already. Once he knows, it won't be long before he sends for you. And with your marking will come ours and the domination of Slytherin. We can no longer stand for Slytherin to be against the tactics of Voldemort if we are marked as his slaves."

"Blaise, do you believe that they are watching us? The souls of the dead I mean? If I reach out, can I touch them? If I speak, will they hear me? Will my deaf ears deny their knowledgeable replies? Have they watched me, knowing I deny their will all along, cursing me to damnation because I do not follow the path they chose for me?" Blurry silver eyes turned towards fearful tanzanite. "Why must they remain silent while Voldemort is heard so loudly? His voice is so powerful, Blaise, it hurts my ears."

"Draco?" Snapping his fingers in front of Draco's face, the dark haired Slytherin unsuccessfully gained his friend's attention. "Draconis?" He called louder, worry lacing his voice.

Whispered words and a steady, lifeless gaze were all he received. "Why does it always have to hurt?"

**ooOoOoo**

Carefully moving through the halls, Sirius Black silently observed the students who prowled about as curfew neared. While Remus was forced to sit through a teacher's meeting, the animagus form that he had been introduced to the school in allowed him the freedom to roam about the school. He was simply Draco Malfoy's pet dog, a creature with a few magical properties, but nothing they would care to take notice of. Only a select few students and certain members of the staff would know his true form. He would be safe at Hogwarts, yet the certain safety that the Institute had given him had disappeared. In Venice, he was not restricted to his dog form, but was allowed to walk around as a man because of the solid trust, and iron clad wards, of the school.

Still, as he slinked through the shadows toward the Gryffindor common room, Sirius could not help but think that he had missed his homeland. While the beauty of Venice was breathtaking, and the school's safety was reassuring, the road had been long and tiring. His already jaded eyes had found new and terrible things to haunt them. All the while, he had found himself wishing for home.

It was not the rolling hills or familiar air he missed most, but a certain green eyed boy who warmed his heart like no other. In his time away, he was forced to keep very limited contact with his precious Godson, much like Draco was forced to minor amounts of contact with anyone in the outside world. It was a protective prison, the Institute, destined to destroy your soul while protecting your body. And now that he was back, Sirius truly feared that the relationship he had once established with his Godson had been irreparably destroyed.

Once at the door of the Fat Lady, he let out a sharp two barks before playfully cocking his canine head to the side, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. The large woman in the portrait scolded the dog, earning a dark growl for her efforts, before disappearing into Gryffindor Tower to announce the creature's presence. As the circular portrait opened, a familiar head of tussled raven locks peered out, recognizable bottle green eyes behind a pair of thick circular glasses brightened as a large cheerful smile appeared.

Uncaring of common human courtesy, Snuffles leapt from the ground towards the human target, pushing the teenager backwards, into the common room and onto the floor, the large black canine on top of him. Licking his face happily, his tail wagging outrageously, Sirius felt at home as he felt his Godson's arms wrap around him tightly, the boy's face burring into his thick fur. Letting out a few joyous barks to announce his presence to the room and sounded his own delight, Sirius grinned his own canine grin, his dark eyes twinkling merrily as he pushed reality away from their blissful reunion.

**ooOoOoo**

A heavy sigh escaped the lips of the young werewolf as he escaped the conference room, abandoning Albus to Minerva's razor sharp tongue and fiery temper. The appointment of Malfoy to the position of Head Boy rather than the planned Ron Weasley had enraged her. Not only had a Gryffindor lost the appointment to a long lost Slytherin, but without consultation between Headmaster to Deputy Headmistress.

Golden eyes widened as his sensitive ears caught wind of the crash glass against the door. Wisely, he exited the corridor swiftly, escaping into the night. The fresh chill of the night enveloped him. There was no call to the moon as he gazed at the glowing fragment in the sky, but rather an appreciation for the beauty of its lunar planes. Bathing in the silvery rays, he made his way around the grounds, the beast within alerting him to some form of unrest. Yet, he knew that the call would never sound if it were not one of the few that he considered close or pack. This sent trills of worry through him as he continued his circle around the grounds.

Nearing the lake, the faint, yet familiar, scent of his ward remained. Glancing about, Remus could not see the boy, nor the companion that he could easily smell. Knowing Draco had been outside did not concern him, after all, Draco would often sit on the roof of the Institute at night to gather his thoughts and process his life. Yet, the slight edge of darkness and insanity to his scent, those familiarly frightening emotions, caused fear and apprehension to coil within his abdomen.

Pushing down his immediate anxiety, he quickly made his way toward the school. Knowing that he could not go into the Slytherin dungeon, he moved to the only person he knew he could implicitly trust, that was allowed unlimited access to both the boy and the dungeon. Reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, he leaned heavily against the stone wall. The stairwell had been incredibly tiring on his body, yet the adrenaline from the worry he was experiencing for his young charge kept him going. Gasping out the password, he made his way into the comfort of the Gryffindor common room.

The sight of his canine best friend wrestling with his deceased best friend's son would usually have warmed his heart immeasurably, creating the desire to play along with the childlike antics of his fellow Marauder. Yet, the concern that ate at his heart forced him to push away the dog that playfully tugged at his pants leg and lean towards his ear.

"Sirius, be serious for one moment please." The canine stiffened at the onslaught of his emotional scent. Knowing he had the man's attention, he continued. "I was at the lake, and by the scents down there, so was Draco and another Slytherin. I can only guess it was a Slytherin. I know I shouldn't be worried. I know Draco likes to be out at night and he is back at Hogwarts so he is probably only catching up with his classmates, but, Padfoot, his scent was wrong. His mind, while he was at the lake, was not quite right. I need you to go down to the dungeons to check it out."

A pleading look was aimed toward the reinstated professor, shortly followed by a whine. "Please, Sirius." Remus whispered. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't honestly think something was wrong. You can come right back up to Harry when you've checked on Eclipse. Spend all day, hell, all week with Harry, but do not forget why you are here."

The canine bowed his head and ran out the cracked portal door, his once waving tail streaming behind him dejectedly.

"What's wrong with Padfoot, Remus?" Harry asked as he got up from his place on the floor, worry easily readable in his eyes.

Forcing a smile, he faced his best friend's Godson. "Nothing, Harry. There was something he needed to take care of. He should be back later tonight." He said in a near whisper. "As for the rest of you, I do believe you have classes tomorrow. Now off to bed!"

Moving to exit the room, he felt the weight of a hand upon his shoulder. Turning, he met the burning green eyes that were so familiar, so similar to Lily's that it was as if she was there again, as if the first War with Voldemort had never occurred. Blinking away the memories, Remus met those eyes onward. "Yes, Harry?"

"Where did Sirius have to go? He's been gone for over a year, to Merlin knows where because he can't tell me and Dumbledore says he doesn't know. He barely ever wrote to me, I never knew if he was okay, and just when we were having a little fun, celebrating his return, he's gone again. What couldn't wait?"

Blown away by the anger contained by the young man, Remus eyed him warily. Time at the Institute had trained him to know that a few items were now floating in the air where his anger had caused his magic to expand beyond control. Much more anger would cause an explosion. "Harry," he said soothingly, "Padfoot only had to check on something for me. I asked him to run an errand because he is more able, me being a werewolf and all." Knowing he was twisting the words a bit, Remus could only hope that his lying, something he had always been horrendous at, had somewhat improved. "He'll be right back, but what you need to do right now is calm down."

Brilliant green eyes shut down, the emotions that had clearly surfaced once more blanketed by the façade of a hero as Harry slumped into a nearby chair dejectedly, the flames of the Gryffindor fire casting shadows around his face. "Sorry, Professor."

Smiling warmly, Remus placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Don't worry about it Harry. I understand you want to spend as much time as you can with Sirius, especially with him having been gone for so long. Sirius…he really did not want to be away from you for as long as he was. He wished to be with you, to be the Godfather he could not. But Harry, we are all held by circumstances."

The young Savior opened his mouth, the questions that he had refrained from asking his Godfather surfacing in light of the vague, evasive words of the Professor who was attempting to comfort him. Yet, those bright golden orbs simply remained blank as he smiled and stood, cutting any attempt to question the truth of Sirius's location now, or the past year and a half.

"You should go ahead to bed, Harry, you have classes tomorrow, after all. I'm sure Sirius will return soon enough. Good night." With those words, the prodigal Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor nodded before promptly exiting the Gryffindor common room, leaving a boy staring at the closed portrait door, lost in a sea of thoughts.

**ooOoOoo**

Arriving at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Sirius stared blankly at what seemed to be a dead end, the blank stone wall mocking his canine form. The damp scent of the dungeon was masked by the perfume of the rich. The rich scent of leather, the gentle spray of silk and velvet, the crisp aroma of power, and mist of darkness all combined into a attribute so distinctly Slytherin. Yet, completely separate from those familiar smells that wafted from behind the wall was the unique touch of his charge. The perfect mixture of ancient magic with modern, the darkness, the anger, the pain, the touch of insanity, each strand combining to create the scent of the young Malfoy.

As the thick black hairs that covered his animal form stood on end, he could hear the haunting words of their wise mentor miles away.

"_Blood calls to blood, Sirius." Magnus murmured as his hand smoothly glided over the paper he was correcting, never once looking up at the gaunt form that paced before the light of the hearth._

_Fierce obsidian eyes glared from a gaunt face. "He is not of my blood, Magnus." He snarled._

_Eyes drawn in concentration as he reread one portion of the paper, a slight smile tugged at the corner of the young Direttore's countenance. "Perhaps, Sirius…yet instinct can not be ignored. It is a primal urge to protect that which is your own, by bond and by blood. Can you not feel the call?"_

_Scowling, Sirius slumped into a nearby chair. "You're too young to sound so sodding much like Dumbledore."_

_Suppressing the bright smile that threatened to widen, Magnus calmly fought to keep a neutral face, his glowing dark blue eyes giving way to the truth of his amusement. "I may be too young, but are you too old to heed the warnings of those wiser than yourself?" He questioned good naturedly._

_From his seat, Sirius huffed indignantly as he carefully examined his nails in blatant disregard to the Italian's words. Yet, even as he sat there in the warmth of the fire, his mind on a green eyed boy he had left only a few days before, the words of the demanding young man near him echoed through his mind._

"_Ignoring the instinct of protecting those that are from your blood will you no good, but only serve to complicate things. That primal matter is your will, your drive to succeed. If you deny your blood, your natural instinct, you deny yourself. Follow it and you will not be lost."_

Raising a paw to the smooth surface of the hidden entryway, his canine form gave way to a keening whine that reverberated through the dim dungeon corridor. The call that the Italian Headmaster had spoken of trilled through his body, igniting his blood as he whimpered helplessly at the unmoving door. Heavy claws anxiously tore at the passive stone without success, the magic that Salazar Slytherin himself had engrained in his territory rejecting his persistent desires.

Relief warmed his dark bestial eyes as an unfamiliar face peered through a portal of an adjacent wall carefully scrutinizing him and the passageway. Seeing no one else, the doorway opened just enough for his flexible form to enter the Slytherin common room. Only a few students were seated before the peridot blaze, their eyes cautiously flickering towards his silent entrance before turning back to the thick volumes that lay before them.

From the shadows, Sirius noted the silent silhouette of a young girl sitting, her legs tightly drawn to her chest as her face lay upon her knees, on the stairwell that led to the boy's dormitory. Thick waves of chocolate brown hair that glittered with hues of gold and ginger gently shadowed the Slytherin's face, her almond shaped crystal blue eyes reflecting the stray lights of the fire as she stared off in space. From the stories he had heard, Sirius knew this girl was Tracey Davis, one of Draco's close friends, yet, behind the grief her dead eyes displayed was a story that he knew he would never truly understand.

Damning the independent nature of the Slytherins, Sirius cautiously crept towards the lifeless girl making sure not to startle her. Softly placing his muzzle under her stray hand, he carefully rubbed against it, allowing a soft whimper to escape as he observed her with soul gazing eyes. Blinking, Tracey's fingers instinctively curled about the canine's soft muzzle, caressing the ebony down. A soft smile played upon her lips as she turned her attention to the dog that had appeared beside her.

"Hey there," she said quietly as she raked her fingers through his thick fur, her nails scratching behind his ears pleasantly. "Draco was looking for you earlier, pup. You shouldn't wander about so carelessly, else someone take their anger out on an innocent beast like yourself." Stroking down the length of his body, her peaceful smile increased at the canine's calm disposition. "Listen to me, talking to a dog. Draco would laugh his arse off if he could hear me, so we'll keep this between us, alright?"

Letting out a quiet bark, Sirius agreed, rewarding the gentle girl with a tender lick to her fingers as he tail waved behind him, signaling his pleasure.

"Good to know you agree." Tracey said with a smile. "I really should not be petting you, Panthros will be jealous. I don't know what Draco was thinking bringing a dog around so many felines…I just hope you can get along with them. Same goes for the owls." Giving the canine a stern look, she tapped his nose gently. "You aren't a cat chaser are you?" Giggling at the dog's snort, she pressed her face into his warm fur. "Daphne would have loved to meet you, pup."

Sirius could feel the warmth of the tears that were now escaping the Slytherin's azure orbs. The steady motion of her fingers ceased as she gripped his thick fur in her grief. "But you won't pup, because she's gone." Anger lit up the Slytherin's eyes, turning them stormy cobalt as she lost herself in a world Sirius could not see nor feel. Yet, as her grip on his fur grew unbearable, Sirius could no longer hold back the yelp that escaped his canine form, bringing the girl back to reality.

The gentle sound of footsteps on the stairs caught Sirius's attention as Tracey apologetically soothed his ruffled fur. Feeling the approaching presence, the Slytherin's eyes fell dead once more as she turned to face her housemate. "Blaise." She said in greeting.

Almost unnatural blue violet orbs gazed steadily at Tracey taking in her red rimmed eyes and distraught appearance. Sighing, the male Slytherin ran a hand through his unruly black locks, fighting the curls that were appearing with the stress of the night. Noticing the dog, Blaise nodded before leaning down and helping the girl to her feet. "Come on Trace, let's go." A painful smile brushed his tired face. "Its late and I'd really like to get some sleep before class, so how about getting Draco's dog."

Tracey nodded, leaning down to gently pet the creature. "Alright pup, how about following me and we can get you to Draco."

The scent of Draco was heavy upon the newly present Blaise, reminding Sirius of his reasons at being in the Slytherin common room and dormitories in the first place. Eagerly, he trailed the two Slytherins as they made their way past the usual male rooms and towards another dead end. Yet, rather than a blank stone wall, this one was carved with the distinctive pattern of the Ouroborous **(1)**, the serpent's inlayed jade eyes glittering in the torch lit corridor. Approaching the stone creature, Blaise placed his palm upon the smooth center, leaving Sirius to watch, wide eyed, as the snake circled about, unlocking the portal door.

The room was unlike any at Hogwarts, its circular architecture housed in the depth of the dungeon designed especially for Slytherin's heirs. To one side of the portal door, a black leather couch surrounded by a pair of black leather wingback chairs stood before a large stone fireplace, framing the thick white Peruvian fur rug that glittered in the impossibly dark emerald flames of the fire. An ornate black marble table place behind the leather couch held a large crystal carving of Magnus's serpentine dragon. To the other side of the portal, the walls were lined with bookshelves, each filled with volume after volume, a testament to his charge's passion for the written word. Close to this was a large black table inlayed with fairy lights and multiple black leather chairs that would easily accommodate the close group of Slytherins when needed.

Straight ahead, upon a raised stone platform, was his target. A large black canopy bed stood proudly displayed, silver diaphanous silk curtains draped elegantly about the frame before pooling upon the stone floor. A dark emerald brocade duvet woven with gossamer strands of silver lay to the side. Lost in a sea of jade green Chinese silk sheets and pillows in varying shades of green and silver, lay his charge, perspiration dotting his regal brow.

Moving ahead of the two Slytherins, Sirius entered the room, his need to see Draco pushing him forward. Effortlessly bounding up the few stairs and jumping onto the silken bed, Sirius nosed at the sleeping boy before curling up at his side. Dark eyes darted about the room, carefully taking in the two larger boys that stood by the fireplace, their bulky figures standing out in a room of such simplistic elegance. Sprawled out on the couch was a broad shouldered girl with dark hair, her face buried deep in the novel she held tightly to as she ignored the rest of the room.

A quiet hitch in breath caused the canine's head to jerk up, his sharp eyes pinpointing the sound almost instantaneously. Curled up on the steps to the bed was a painfully thin boy with dark hair. The child's eyes were peacefully closed in sleep, thick lashes caressing porcelain cheeks. Tilting his head to the side, Sirius attempted to connect such an innocent boy to the hardened youths that were present.

Yet, he was broken from his thoughts as a door closed to his side and another teen appeared, this time a young woman with corn silk blonde locks. The girl carefully approached the bed, a small case of potion vials in one hand, a cloth in the other. Placing the case on the small marble bedside table, the young Slytherin carefully lifted the vials, reading the contents before shaking her head at finding nothing useful. Instead, she began to dab the cool cloth to Draco's forehead, gently brushing the wizard's silvery blonde strands from his face.

A wistful smile played upon her lips as she gently kissed his forehead and draped the sheets over his feverish body. Kindly patting Sirius on the head, Pansy moved to wake the frail boy sleeping on the stone steps. As his sapphire eyes opened, Pansy signaled to Crabbe, watching as the thick muscled Slytherin carefully lifted the small boy and carried him from the room.

Moving to Blaise, Pansy's whispers fell easily to Sirius's canine hearing. "He's sleeping peacefully now. I don't know what happened, but its best if no one says anything, not even to Snape." Meaningful looks were traded, words left unspoken. "You need to get some sleep, we all do. I can take first watch."

An appreciative grin weighed down by exhaustion appeared as he gently kissed the blonde's brow. "I'll send someone to relieve you in two hours." With that, the dark haired Slytherin moved to Goyle and forced him from the room, quickly followed by Millicent Bulstrode, her face still in her novel.

Following Pansy with a sigh, Tracey placed a hand upon her fellow Slytherin's shoulder as she gazed at their sleeping leader. The pair settled upon the ebony velvet chaise that had been conjured, their eyes never leaving the prodigal Slytherin's countenance.

"What do you think happened, Trace?" Pansy asked hesitantly, unsure as to whether her friend would withdraw further into her shell as she had in the past or if she would answer.

"I-I don't know, Pansy. Blaise said he pretty much had a panic attack, nothing he said was making much sense, but I think he's hiding something. I…I think there's a lot we don't know Pans…"

"He'll never tell us, will he Tracey?" Bright blue eyes blurred with carefully suppressed tears.

"No…" Tracey whispered. "We are Slytherins Pansy…we suffer in silence."

From his place on the bed, Sirius watched as the two girls fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts as they waited for the next person to take watch. Closing his eyes, Sirius drifted off, his head lying comfortably upon Draco's chest, listening to its steady beat chase away the haunting silence of the night.

**ooOoOoo**

**1** Ouroborous: The ancient symbol depicting a snake swallowing its own tail, contrastingly creating itself and forming a continuous circle. This symbol is generally a representation of the cycles of nature and eternity.

**ooOoOoo**

**Sirius versus Harry: **There seems to be a good deal of anticipation for conflict here, I hope I don't disappoint.This chapter should have answered some of the questions on the dynamics of their relations throughout the past year and a half. As for what is to come…well that will be what is to come, now won't it?

**If Draco had been so highly trained in both the Dark Arts and the Light, why weren't his grades higher than Hermione's before? **Alright, Draco's knowledge, Pre-Institute, was extensive. Having a father like Lucius Malfoy would only suggest the Dark Arts knowledge; however, it is the knowledge of Light magic that is less accumulated within him. While he was trained in both, he was not trained equally. As a Slytherin, it is common knowledge of his qualities; the key trademarks are sly and ambitious. In not revealing his abilities and knowledge, he may be forced to have lower grades, but he is allowed a greater reward, knowledge that no one expects he would have such abilities. After all, why would a Malfoy allow a Muggleborn to surpass him if he had the abilities to prevent it?

**Draco's Power and Perfection: **You see, as I write this story, I know I'm going to face the most about this fact. I never believe that powers can be compared, and I hope that I have given you a glimpse into Draco's powers and how they will be utilized. Draco's magic is a bit swayed, you might say. I do not believe in making a character perfect, for you will find that all of the characters have flaws. If the flaw is not external, because Ms. Rowling did give her characters beauty, then it is internal. Both his power and his person have serious flaws, ones he recognizes and those he does not. It is all on the interpretation of the reader.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, its characters, locations, and themes belong to J.K. Rowling and Scholastic Books. This author makes no claim on them or any other part of the Harry Potter sensation; only the original characters, places, and plot belong to this author.

**ooOoOoo**

**AN: **Sorry so long, but this chapter has been sitting in my hard drive since the end of April. I still haven't heard back from my beta on this chapter and my internet access is very limited so it has been near impossible for me to touch this. Hope my own editing job was sufficient, even it if took me two and a half months to do it.

**WARNING:** Alternate universe Ignores all books after Book 4. Some original characters. Future slash pairing, meaning in a male homosexual relationship. This won't show up for a while, but the warning is still here. If you don't like it, then why are you reading it?

**Pairings:** HP/DM; RW/HG

**ooOoOoo**

**..:Draconis Sanguen:..**

Chapter 6

Iron gated sconces evenly spaced about the circular room slowly awakened with peridot light, chasing away the shadows that lingered by the dying light of the hearth. Shifting within the warm silky cocoon of his bed, Draco ignored the mounting light as he buried his face in his pillow. One arm struggled to pull the thick bedding over his head as he drew a knee to his chest, the other leg peering from the evergreen bedding. In the ever increasing light, the blonde Slytherin struggled to hold on to the dreams that silently slipped from his grasp as he burrowed in the layers of his bedcovers.

Beside the shifting Slytherin, the shadowy form of his canine companion peered from beneath the slim corner of silk that pooled over his muzzled. Shaking the fabric from its perch, the dog yawned, arching his back to stretch his muscles. Like water upon a moonless night, his impossibly dark fur rippled in the growing light as the muscles and bones beneath shifted, the thick pelt regressing, leaving the long form of Sirius Black to stretch out upon the large bed.

From amidst the waves of silk, brocade, and velvet, the older man huffed indignantly at his cramped position, pushed near the edge of the bed by his slumbering bedmate. Running a hand through his dark hair, Sirius smiled as his charge buried further into the coverlet, mumbling incoherently. Sliding off of the bed, careful not to wake his young cousin, Sirius slipped out of the room and into the adjacent bathroom, his dark eyes watching the blonde vigilantly until the door closed behind him.

As one door closed, the portal to the Slytherin common room and dorms opened, admitting a tired Pansy Parkinson, her blonde hair stained dark by the water from her morning shower, dressed in a midnight blue dressing gown. Standing at her friend's bedside, she smiled wearily, pushing back the covers and pressing her hand to his forehead softly. Finding no sign of the previous night's fever, she lightly shook the boy who protested at the arousal. Rolling away from the annoyance, the silk sheets spilled onto the bed, exposing his nude body to his fellow Slytherin. Ignoring the boy's new found nudity, Pansy simply pushed him harder.

Sleepy silver eyes cracked open to meet with irritated cerulean before closing once more as hands searched for the missing coverlet. "G'way, P'nsy."

"Draco Malfoy, if you do not get your pallid arse out of this bed within the next two minutes, I swear to Morgana I will turn you inside out and leave your organs for the pigeons to dine on in Muggle London." Pansy stated flatly before turning to face the black leather couch where Blaise lay awake, his sleep disturbed by the volume of Pansy's voice.

"Good morning Pansy," Blaise whispered drowsily. "How is our patient this morning?" Yawning, he rubbed his eyes in a child-like manner.

"He seems to be fine Blaise." Pansy responded softly, her eyes flickering to the porcelain form of their prodigal friend. "His fever has disappeared and he's just as impossible to wake in the mornings as he was before he left."

Nodding, Blaise stood, using the couch to steady himself as waves of dizziness passed through him, his head pounding painfully. Bringing a hand to his temples, he carefully massaged the pulsating points. "That's better than him not waking up at all," he responded rather sharply.

Blanching, Pansy stepped back, her eyes darkening before regaining her poise. "Yes, well, I just came in to remind you and Draco that the prefect meeting will begin in an hour. As our Head Boy, Draco's presence is required, illness or no illness. Slytherins are nothing without their image. If you require nothing else, I will take my leave." Not bothering to wait for a dismissal, she left, her head held high.

"Pansy…I didn't mean…I…damn it…" Blaise cursed, his head falling into his hands. Sighing, he raked a hand through his unruly sable curls.

Approaching the bed, he shook his head at the still sleeping form of his friend. Reaching out, he pushed the stray strands of silver blonde from the boy's sleeping face. Nostalgia swept through him as he stood there, gazing down at his best friend. With a mischievous grin upon his face, he removed his wand from his pocket and, with a complex pattern of waves, a symphony of noise echoed throughout the quarters. The sound of muggle airplanes taking off mixed with explosions and the wailing sirens, resonating about the room.

Silver eyes opened wide, darting about the room rapidly, as Draco sat up violently within his plush setting. Seeing only the grinning form of his friend, Draco's eyes narrowed, swirling to quicksilver as the mountain of pillows around him. The pillows that had surrounded him throughout the night now rose, speeding through the air to pelt the dark haired Slytherin. Blaise backed away laughing, batting at the airborne cushions. Smiling slightly at the sight, Draco watched as Blaise retreated with a wink.

Alarmed by the sounds outside the door, Sirius resisted the urge to rush through the bathroom door and into the Head Boy's room. Reminding himself that Blaise was still in the room, he perched near the door, an eavesdropping spell in place. Upon hearing the portal close, Sirius waited an impatiently timed ten minutes before slipping from the bathroom in his canine form, just in case another Slytherin still lingered in his charge's room.

To his exasperation, he found Draco once more curled within the warmth of his duvet, his head peering out of the otherwise indistinguishable bundle. Rolling his eyes, he smoothly transformed back to his human form and vocally activated the complex wards and numerous locking charms on the room, ensuring that he was not seen nor interrupted. With an evil gleam in his eyes, he promptly strode over to the bed and lifted the boy from the warmth of the bed. Ignoring Draco's nudity, he walked into the bathroom, moving to stand beside the bathtub.

Silver-gray eyes fluttered open as Draco's mouth opened to protest the familiar morning wake up call, only to freeze as he was dropped into a bathtub full of cold water. Eyes wide and unable to speak, Sirius fell to the ground laughing at the boy's appearance of sheer indignance, an expression that soon melted to outrage.

Sirius quickly held his hands up in the universal gesture of harmlessness, his eyes twinkling as he repressed the humor of the situation. "See now, little cousin, you should have woken up when your friends told you to. One shook you awake; the other gave you an alarm that would have woken up the entire school if not for the silencing spells on this room…how did you expect me to wake you up?" Noting the mounting rage of the boy, Sirius scrambled from the floor and fled the room, ducking beneath the bed and holding silently still to avoid detection.

From his perch in bathtub, Draco chuckled at his cousin's actions. With a secretive smile, the Slytherin charmed the water warm with a wave of his hand before relaxing in the large marble tub. Closing his eyes, he allowed the silence and steam to surround him, clearing his mind, loosing himself in the scent of amber, lavender and sandalwood.

**ooOoOoo**

Resting his head against the cool smooth surface of the Ouroboros, Blaise fought the tides of nausea that swept through his body. In the dim lights of Hogwarts dungeon, the sharp piercing pain at his temples settled to a throbbing familiar ache, driven by the volume of the playful alarm he had set off only moments before. The energy that had, just previously, seemed endless, left his system. Lethargy now swept through his veins as he leaned heavily against his best friend's door.

Midnight blue eyes that, he knew, had just sparkled with merriment, were now deadened, glazed over by pain and weariness. Forcing a hand back to the center of the Ouroboros, Blaise leaned heavily against the door as it swung open, barely righting himself as he lost his support. Stumbling into the room, he made his way to the small bedside table. The familiar chest that lay open upon the chest sent his heart racing, the sharp pounding upon his temple practically fading as his fingers traced over the assorted vials.

Sliding an unlabeled vial out of its small hole, Blaise puzzled over the silver liquid. The potion chest had been a gift to Draco from Professor Snape and was often stocked with common potions. It had often prevented the Slytherins from trips to the Infirmary and, to Draco's delight, had even contained a few rare elixirs they had put to good use. A smile came to Blaise's face as he remembered the results of the Confusing Concoction on a small group of Hufflepuffs. Over time, Draco had used his own abilities to restore the chests contents, adding to the variety found within. Apparently, this was a newer one. Shaking his head slightly, he replaced the silver concoction, ignoring the empty space behind it.

Finding the two carefully labeled potions he desired, Blaise closed the chest. Sitting upon the bed, he tipped back the first. Immediately, his migraine receded, leaving his body free of the aches and nausea that were so common with his headaches. Sighing, he took the second, which quickly reenergized his fatigued body. Stretching, he placed the two emptied vials beside the lone empty vial beside the chest before approaching the bathroom door.

"Draco, you have fifteen minutes!"

**ooOoOoo**

Hogwarts rules dictate that each of the four houses be represented by two prefects, one of each gender, for each year from fifth year up, for a total of twenty four prefects. These twenty four individuals would be lead by a Head Boy and Head Girl; both of whom were chosen from the seventh year and had often been prefects themselves, although this was not the rule. Their duties ranged from discipline to advising the younger students; however, in the darker times that had descended upon Hogwarts, this group of students was now used as a method of warfare. For the past two years, despite Voldemort's quiet nature, the Prefects had helped to comfort those victims to his crimes, counsel those who may have fallen to his shadowy ranks, and helped prepare students for the upcoming war in a supplemental Defense Arts practice.

Hermione Granger, the new Head Girl, briefly looked over her notes as she gazed at the clock, her mind churning with questionable thoughts. She had expected that Terry Boot would be nominated as Head Boy, yet, she was now faced with Draco Malfoy as her counterpart. With Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw that had been a Prefect since his fifth year nomination, an intelligent and organized classmate, she would have been at ease, but Malfoy was a symbol of so much more.

She would never dispute the fact that Malfoy was intelligent, privately; however, the past two years had shaped the Prefects into so much more than a disciplinary unit. They were a symbol and acted with more power. Hermione, herself, had been active in preparing students for War. Being best friends with Harry Potter and privilege to his confidence had brought the realism of the world with it. She knew the dangers that lurked in the most innocent of faces. And Draco Malfoy…

The door to the meeting room slammed closed, jerking Hermione from her thoughts. With those thoughts, it seemed, Draco Malfoy had been conjured, followed silently by the six Slytherin Prefects in a display of solidarity. Glancing about the room, Hermione found that the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had already arrived. Sighing, she noted that it would be her own house that would arrive last.

Steadily ignoring the blonde as he settled into the seat beside her, at the head of the table, Hermione glanced at the clock. Noting the time, she rearranged her notes and laid down her quill, her eyes peering curiously at the young man beside her.

Draco Malfoy, who had arrived with such flourish just the evening before, was now dressed in the standard black robes of Hogwarts. Although she had seen him in such attire for the four years he had attended Hogwarts, the material almost seemed alien to him now. The loose flowing shirt and snakeskin pants from the evening before seemed more appropriate. It appeared as though he would agree as he pulled at the neck of his finely tailored robes and shifted uncomfortably in the material. His actions almost reminded her of a first year muggle-born, not as though she would say so to him, she thought with a smile.

At five minutes past the hour, Hermione cleared her throat, gaining the attention of the room. "Despite our lack of attendees, the first official meeting of Hogwarts Prefects shall commence. Anything of importance can simply be relayed to the absent students at the conclusion of the meeting." With nods from all, she continued. "Let it be noted, that I, Hermione Granger, have been nominated as this year's Head Girl."

"So noted and acknowledged." The Prefects murmured in acceptance.

Draco shifted in his chair, leveling gazes with the students about the room as he spoke. "Make it noted that I, Draco Malfoy, am this year's Head Boy."

The Slytherins smirked at their leader's forceful statement, proudly stating their agreement, quickly echoed by the Hufflepuffs. The Ravenclaws gazed at him momentarily before quietly adding their agreements, a statement that was drug out by a reluctant Terry Boot.

"So noted and acknowledged."

Silver eyes flickered in triumph at the empty Gryffindor chairs. Nodding at the Prefects, Draco leaned back in his chair, his head casually turned up as a picture of casual indifference.

Sighing, Hermione murmured the acknowledgement of the Prefects before continuing. "So noted. First on this morning's agenda, Filch has complained to the Headmaster about the string of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products that are being used by students. Since the opening of their shop, we have to keep our eyes open for such items, as well as other items that have been deemed forbidden by staff. As Prefects, please remember that you are an example. This means that you can not be seen with such items either."

The younger Prefects sighed in disappointment, otherwise joining in the acknowledgement that flowed through the group.

"Second, please note that one of your duties as Prefect is to patrol Hogwarts. A schedule will be posted by the end of this week, so please let me know in writing if there is a specific time or night you will be unable to patrol on a regular basis. Malfoy and I will be working on the schedule as soon as possible."

Brown eyes met with silver as the Slytherin leader nodded stiffly in acknowledgement of the unspoken demand of his time.

"We will also be creating the schedule for the Defense Arts sessions. Just as last year, this program is open to all students; however, in order to streamline the program, the classes will be sorted by year and experience. It is your duty as a Prefect to assist in training other students, as well as gain the training and experience to defend your fellow classmates. Defense Arts classes meet weekly and will start one month into the year. Fifth year students will meet with Professor Lupin to begin your own, more advanced, training next week. He will schedule these lessons."

Once again, the youngest Prefects looked ruffled at the amount of responsibility being thrust upon them. Their eyes were wide with the amount of work they would encounter with their position, their mouths open, ready to protest.

"Please remember, we are at war. Despite what some may say, how people may act, Voldemort is alive. The war that played out before some of us were born has been brought back to life with him. It is our duty to help those around us prepare for this as well. No matter what side we may take," she said, the passion leaking through her voice as she gazed at the Slytherins, "we are all united here, at Hogwarts. Hogwarts, for these months, is our home. She holds us within her protection and allows us to expand our knowledge without the harsh realities of war to pervade our senses. Yet, when we leave her embrace, we will be forced to face the realities we have eluded. That war is real, that our lives are in danger, and that this world, in which some of us have been graciously accepted and others have been so fortuitously born into, is coming to arms. Our duty is not just to aid those around us presently, but to prepare them for a time in which we will not be there to aid them."

The fifth year prefects, and even the sixth year, now sat proudly still, their thoughts no longer on their lost time, but rather on their gained opportunities.

Smiling, Hermione sat back down, blushing lightly under the scrutiny of her peers. Clearing her throat, she shuffled her papers. "I give the floor to Head Boy Draco Malfoy."

With a sharp nod, Draco stood. "Thank you, Granger, for such a passionate speech." He said with a smirk. The blush that had begun to recede from Hermione's cheeks flared once more; however, her Gryffindor pride forced her to face the scrutiny of her peers unflinchingly.

At that exact moment, the door opened, admitting a sheepish Ron Weasley, followed by the remainder of the Gryffindor Prefects. The group quickly moved to their seats, quietly giving their apologies along the way. The pleading look that Ron shot towards his girlfriend was ignored as Hermione refused to look in his direction.

Clearing his throat, Draco gained the attention of the Prefects once again and was rewarded with wide eyes from the Gryffindor Prefects. "As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," a glare was quickly shot to the annoyed Weasley, "I shall not attempt to out do the Head Girl's zealous speech. I will simply add to her thoughts. I have been away from England for little more than two years and seen, first hand, how this war has spread beyond our boarders. War…I hate words such as war. It is a word that is so small and simple, with a meaning so complex and consequences that will span the world. So many people decorate the truths of war as a battle for a cause, for proving a point in life right. But the truth of war is very simple, despite its origin and motivations. People will die. It is not the humane death that you and I wish for, but a blessing found amidst a sea of pain. And for many of us that will battle, the end is found long before our time has been spent. It matters not your opinion, it matters not which 'side' you join; there will be death. That same wand you have learned to wield within our classrooms will be transformed into a weapon as it is used to kill, or be used to kill you."

"This battle will be wizard against wizard, brethren against brethren. Childhood no longer has a place in our lives as we will be forced to ask the difficult questions, answering even worse along the way, because who we face on the battlefield tomorrow may be a classmate or friend of today. When we enter the field for war, the tools we have learned here within our school will be the tools we defend ourselves, our families, our very world with. These are the tools that you, as a Prefect, will share. This_ conflict _is greater than you or I; it is greater than any one person within this room. We are all tools within the War. But with the knowledge that may gain, you become more than a tool, you become an asset. So, become assets, not just to this school, but to the community that has welcomed you into its fold. Become the witch or wizard that this world accepted you to become."

With a glance to the clock, Draco ignored the wide eyed looked he had gathered. "This meeting is dismissed." Standing, the Slytherins followed his example, moving to follow him as he exited the room. The door quietly closed, leaving a group of shocked Prefects and a thoughtful Head Girl in his wake.

**ooOoOoo**

Harry Potter, infamous The-Boy-Who-Lived and resident 'Golden Boy' of Gryffindor, stormed through the hallways of Hogwarts angrily. Remus had promised that Sirius would return, yet, upon awakening, there had been no sign of the canine within Gryffindor Tower. The resentment at his Godfather's casual dismissal of him, followed by forgetting about him, had built into a rage.

Pushing the doors to the Great Hall open roughly, Harry ignored the greeting from any other students, heading straight to his usual seat at Gryffindor table. Spearing at the breakfast platters angrily, he began to viciously tear into his breakfast, disregarding his fellow Gryffindors. Across from him, Hermione and Ron looked at him wearily, exchanging a brief identical look of concern before returning their attention to their own breakfast.

"So," Hermione began, "at least Defense against the Dark Arts is going to be taught by Professor Lupin again. He was a wonderful teacher. He should prepare us for our NEWTs splendidly. Don't you think, Harry?" Her question was met with a dark look, to which she pressed on. "The Advanced Magicks class we are all signed up for should make the NEWTs revisions I've began to plan easier as well. I'm rather eager to see what we'll be covering in that class."

Ron, seeing Harry's ever darkening look, interrupted the conversation. "So, Harry, I was thinking that Quidditch team tryouts should be held next week. Give everyone time to get back into the pattern with school, and give us enough time to practice with the new students, don't you think?"

Harry's face warmed up a bit as he looked at the Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain. "Alright, Ron. It sounds good." Beside them, Hermione remained silent, noting that Harry's ill temper was fading with the discussion of the wizarding sport.

"I was thinking, last night," Ron began.

"You, thinking? I never would have guessed." Harry barbed.

"Shut up Harry." Ron said with a laugh. "Seriously, since Malfoy is back, do you think Slytherin'll make him their Seeker again? Zabini has been a right good Seeker, but with Malfoy back, what do you think?"

"Does it matter?" Harry asked with indifference. "Ron, you're a bloody brilliant strategist. Malfoy, I'm sure, won't be a problem for you." Ron flustered at the praise. "Besides, I _am _the youngest Seeker _ever_." Harry stated with exaggerated arrogance before shaking his head. "Whatever the Slytherins plan to do, let them do. No one has beat you at chess yet Ron, I'll wager that will be the same for Quidditch."

**ooOoOoo**

Pausing to glance down at the schedule Professor Snape had handed to him before heading to a meeting, Draco scanned the classes for the day. N.E.W.T. level Charms followed by N.E.W.T. level Defense against the Dark Arts. After lunch was N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration, an extended break, and finally Advanced Magicks, all shortly before dinner. Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair that hung loose, framing his face. A push from behind reminded him of the canine that had followed him from the dungeons.

Looking down, he raised an eyebrow in question. Receiving a whimper, the grim grabbed hold of the sleeve of his robe and pulled him to the door of the Great Hall before scratching at the immovable doors. With a small bow to the dog, Draco opened the doors, allowing his Animagi cousin to enter before him.

Making his way to the Slytherin table, Draco ignored the stares and whispers that followed him. It was a sharp hand that had grabbed hold of his arm, jerking him around to face his attacker, and a sharp voice that directed the attention of his narrowed silver eyes.

Before him stood an enraged Harry Potter, whose sable locks that usually lay in casual disarray seemed to follow their master's temperament as they flared wildly in uncontrollable waves. Bright green eyes were narrowed behind thick round spectacles. The wizard seemed to tremble with anger, his magic beginning to build within him, swirling beneath the breaking point as his fingers drifted close to his wand.

"Potter." Draco said with casual indifference, his eyes focused upon his rival's wand hand, knowing a threat when one was issued. "How might I assist you this fine morning?"

All eyes were on the two boys. The students that had attended Hogwarts while Draco had still attended were well aware of the animosity that brewed between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Those that had begun after Draco's fourth year, however, had only heard tales, the exaggerated stories of the hatred between the two spokesmen of the two rival houses. They had heard of their duels, of their Quidditch matches, their arguments, and, now, they were witnessing the legends with their own eyes.

"Shut up Malfoy. I just want to know why he's with you." Harry stated, his teeth grinding together.

Tilting his head to the side, blinking in confusion, Draco looked around. "Potter, I do believe you are seeing things. If you _see _someone with me, pray tell me who that someone is so that I can have a Banishing Ritual performed post haste. I do despise when pests follow me about. On that note, thank you for rescuing me from the terrible phantom spirit. You have performed your good deed for the day, now do leave me alone. As I said, I hate to have pests following me around."

Green eyes darkened with anger at Malfoy's arrogance. Reaching out, he grabbed collar of the blonde's robe and pulled him close, his voice low as he spoke. "The dog, Malfoy. Why is _he_ following _you_?"

Draco's eyes widened as he met green unflinchingly. Blinking, he chuckled well humouredly. "Perhaps, Potter, because I was about to feed him. Canines, like humans, do require a specific caloric intake. They are also creatures of habit. And seeing as I have been providing this creature with his meals for the past two years, Merlin forbid he expect I provide today's."

The creature of subject had made its way to the two rivals and, with careful force, had taken to tugging upon the brunette's robes, a light growl resonating in his throat. Harry turned to look at the dog, a flash of betrayal alight in his eyes before disappearing in a swirl of emerald. With a sharp push backwards, he released his blonde adversary, watching emotionlessly as Blaise Zabini caught hold of the falling form.

Draco pushed away from his friend, meeting eyes in appreciation, before turning back to the Gryffindor. Clicking his tongue, he gazed expectantly at the large black dog. For a moment, it seemed to the audience as if the dog were caught in a moment of hesitation, caught between obedience to his Slytherin master and a Gryffindor defender. Yet, with a bowed head, the grim look alike approached Draco, standing beside him.

Harry's green eyes that had once merely flickered with betrayal, now shattered with incomprehensible hurt and treason. Ignoring the dark orbs that sought to explain with a long pleading look, he met eyes with gloating silver. Rage surged through him and with that, came his magic.

With honed senses, Draco's stance straightened. Pushing his Animagi cousin behind him, he positioned himself in front of the small number of Slytherins that had joined the witnesses to support him. He could feel that, in forcing Sirius to come to him, he had broken the fragile control that the Gryffindor held upon his emotions. Apparently, Potter had already felt some amount of anger and betrayal, Draco thought.

With practiced ease, both students pulled out their wands at the same time. Yet, while Harry fell into attack formation, Draco fell into his own defensive stance which was a mixture of magical defense as well as martial arts. Adrenaline surged through the two as they stared, each preparing for battle.

With a sharp wave, Harry began the battle with a simple Conjunctivitis Curse. Smirking, he watched as his opponent's eyes quickly turned red and watered. Following his curse, he rapidly followed, whispering his next spell. "_Incarcerous_."

Draco could feel the burning of his eyes as he closed them. Raising a hand, he pressed his own wand to his eyes, quietly murmuring "_Sano_" to heal the damage done by his rival's inflammation spell. The ropes he had not seen from the Gryffindor's wand quickly wrapped around his body, however, his arm was left free from his body, allowing him to focus his energy to a very low level spell. "_Diffindo_" he stated calmly, severing his binds. Smirking, he slid back into his defense stance. "Please, Potter, even I am able to acknowledge that these third year charms are far below your capabilities. If you are going to challenge me, then _challenge_ me. Otherwise, do not inconvenience me with such a paltry performance."

Smirking, Harry acknowledged his words. "Malfoy, you might find this one a bit 'low level' but you taught it to me. It brings back memories. _Serpensortia._"

A long slender snake made its way from the Gryffindor's wand, its golden underbelly touching down upon the ground, coiling in defense against the crowd of students. Draco's eyes lit up at the round face and familiar dark red-brown scales of the serpent. The dark haired wizard soon began to whisper in Parseltongue, urging the snake towards his opponent.

Turning his head, Draco caught Blaise's attention. "A Taipan," he stated with a smirk, his silver eyes glittering as he watched, entranced by the serpent. "Potter's trying to control a Taipan." The two Slytherins watched as the snake drew away from the Gryffindor, hissing in warning. Draco calmly approached the dangerous snake, cautiously watching both his opponent and the creature, knowing that either could cause the snake to attack, before softly whispering his own spell "_Evanesco"_ and watching the summoned creature disappear.

Jerking his eyes from where the snake had once laid, Draco stared at the hero of the Wizarding world, seeing the child that had refused his friendship. "Apparently, Potter, you are unable to comprehend just what type of duel I was expecting when you challenged me." Narrowing his eyes, he moved into offensive. His words were the only warning he gave before he began his onslaught of spells. "_Timor_" he whispered darkly.

Dark fog poured into the room as a sense of anxiety and fear pervaded Harry's senses. It was similar to the sensations of the Dementor, yet there were no screams, no cries, and no Voldemort.

"_Speculum_" Draco whispered, his silky voice ripe with dark promises.

Suddenly, the very things that were not, were. The screams echoed through Harry's ears as the green light filled the mirror that had created itself from the fog in front him. The very nightmare that had played out within his head so many times now made itself real.

"_Fracta_" Harry spoke coldly, watching the image of his mother shatter into mere fragments of glass that vanished into smoke. Gazing up, he met with cold eyes, eyes that knew of his fears, his weaknesses, as well as his hopes and dreams. It mattered not the time that had passed, Malfoy was the same wizard who knew him, not for fame, but for the child inside.

"_Morus_" He stated, wanting nothing more than the pain within him to be manifested upon his opponent.

"_Contego_" Draco responded, feeling the pain curse absorb into his shield.

"_Malus Memoria_" Harry sent, watching the spell grow closer his shocked opponent, knowing that emotional spells were impossible to shield against. Shield would absorb the magic, which would, in essence, apply them to the person's magic, causing the spell to be cast. Unless the counter spell was known, his spell would cause Malfoy to relive his worst memory in full detail, as if he were there once again.

The triumph that surged through him was quickly assuaged as his opponent fell upon one knee, his eyes tightly closed, the thick material of his robes clutched in his fists. The eyes of the entire hall were focused upon the kneeling Head Boy as he trembled. Harry's mind quickly awoke with guilt, thinking over what his own worst memory would be attempting to believe what his own experience might be to relive such an event.

Rushing to his fallen enemy, Harry called the blonde's name multiple times, ignoring the Slytherins that now flocked around their leader. Careful not to touch him, lest he be pulled into the memory as well, he waved a hand in front of the glazed eyes. Yet, nothing could capture the attention of the Head Boy as he was lost in tormenting memories.

**ooOoOoo**

The Professors of Hogwarts and their esteemed Headmaster made their way towards the Great Hall. The morning meeting had gone no better than the evening meeting, leaving them in bad humor. Arguments over the appointment of Head Boy, as well as a debate over the syllabus for the Advanced Magicks course, had lead into further debates over the views of light and dark magic and personal views of many situations at Hogwarts. Overall, the Professors were left with nothing more than headaches and ill tempers from their morning convene.

Potions Master Severus Snape was first to pass through the door and into the Great Hall, where upon, he wished he could turn and exit at the sight of a crowd congregating upon a single point. This immediately meant that _something _that happened. Something he was sure he did not wish, nor did he have the patience, to deal with.

Pushing his way through the crowd of students, the Professor soon found himself confronted with a sight reminiscent of years past. His godson was kneeling upon the ground, his normally bright eyes now dull grey. Beside him was Harry Potter, his green eyes dark with worry as he waved his wand fruitlessly. Anger surged through him, immediately recognizing the scene for what it was. Dark eyes narrowed his pale skin coloring as his face contorted with rage.

"_One hundred points_, Mr. Potter, for the malicious attack on your fellow student and Head Boy."

Wide green eyes turned and stared at the Potions Master. Yet, before Harry could begin to speak, the Professor turned his attention to the anxious tanzanite gaze of another Slytherin student.

"Zabini, take Master Malfoy to the infirmary immediately." Snape growled out. "Tell Madame Pomfrey I will be there momentarily."

Blaise nodded, removing the blonde Slytherin from the Great Hall with a quick "_Mobillicorpus_."

As the doors to the Great Hall shut behind them, Snape slowly turned toward the frozen Gryffindor. His dark eyes were fiery, his venomous words prepared… "Mr. Potter," he hissed.

"-will receive _fifty _points for helping a fallen student. An additional _ten _points as you looked beyond past rivalries to help your fellow classmate." Headmaster Dumbledore interrupted as he made his way beside the outraged Potions Master. "Another _twenty-five _pointsto Mr. Potter for keeping a cool head in such an unfortunate situation." Blue eyes twinkled merrily as the man concentrated. "And, _ten _points to each house for remaining calm. Now, Mr. Potter, if you will please meet me in my office before your first class, I believe we may sort this out."

With those words, Severus Snape turned on his heal, his glare sending the students that stood in his way scattering, exiting the Great Hall, his black robes flaring behind him dramatically.

"And, Mr. Longbottom," the Headmaster added, smiling as he watched the livid professor exit the Hall, "_fifteen _points for not fainting in the path of an enraged Professor Snape."

**ooOoOoo**

Dull lifeless eyes slowly regained their shine as grey swirled to silver. Shaking his head, Draco slowly sat up in the infirmary bed, one hand slowly moving to cover his eyes. Breathing deeply, his whispered words echoed through the room. "It's over… thank Merlin it's over…"

A warm hand gently fell upon his shoulder, moving in slow circles upon his back as another arm encircled him, pulling him to the broad expanse of his visitor's chest. Draco soon found himself surrounded by the soothing scent of citrus. His head upon the offered chest, he listened the steady rhythm of his best friend's heart.

"Looks like those Auror lessons they've been giving Potter are paying off." Blaise said dryly.

Intertwining a hand in the thin silky fabric of his friend's shirt, he replied tonelessly. "Mother always said true pain is not found in bodily afflictions, but in matters of the mind and heart." The arms around him tightened. "I suppose Potter is taking a bit of her advice in this, not that he didn't try physical pain as well. Looks like his Gryffindor morals are taking a beating in this War, as I am sure that he never would have used a spell like that before."

"Yeah, well a lot of things change with the War." Blaise whispered, his fingers running through the silky blonde strands of hair absently. "Draco…what did you see?" He questioned, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

Sitting up abruptly, Draco shuttered from the loss of warmth. "What did you ask?"

Louder, his voice stronger, Blaise pressed forward. "When Potter used that spell, what did you see? Your worst memory, what was it?"

His voice bordering on hysterical, Draco pushed Blaise from him as his friend sought to comfort him once more. "What did I see? What did I see? Why should I tell _you _what _I _saw?"

Standing, Blaise towered over his friend. "You were gone for two years Draco! I have been working my arse off here to keep our plans running. You have trusted me to keep these people safe here. You have trusted me with your plans, your confidence, and your secrets. Yet, you return and suddenly your trust in me has evaporated? Your faith in Slytherin has been destroyed! Your secrets are eating you from the inside and you refuse to release them. What are you hiding from us that is so terrible that you can not even look at me when I ask you of their nature!"

Grabbing a hold of Draco's chin, Blaise forced him to look up, meeting eye to eye. "So I will ask again, Slytherin to Slytherin, comrade to comrade, ally to ally…friend to friend. What did you see?"

Silver eyes met with blue violet, two unnatural colors held in a long gaze, measuring, weighing, and deciding. Trailing away from the scrutiny, Draco found himself looking into the mirror that was placed so innocently behind his friend. And from those reflective depths, the haunting images of that memory appeared.

_The chains that had hung for so long within the small room once again became useful as they bit sharply into the girl's fragile skin. Once pure crimson blood stained burgundy as it dried around the shackles that held her mercilessly captive against the icy stone walls. Her thin gown provided little warmth against the draft that flowed through the dungeon room while she huddled tightly in a ball, her dull green eyes gazing dully at freedom beyond the bars that she would never gain._

_Thin fingers trailed over the half filled bottles by the dungeon door before wrapping tightly around the cold iron bars. Silver hair drifting within the room as his head leaned against the familiar bars._

_Quicksilver orbs gazed at the girl who had been beaten nearly unrecognizable. Yet, the auburn locks, no matter how bloodstained they may have been, told him of the harsh reality crashing into his world. The beautiful red curls that he had teased the girl for, so childishly and carelessly, now hung in unkempt tangles. Her beautiful face and lively green eyes reduced to stains of black and purple. _

"_Daphne…Daph…" He called quietly, hoping to gain his fellow Slytherin's attention. _

_Deadened green eyes slowly turned to him, painful recognition lighting within her eyes as the tears she had refused to shed before appeared within her eyes. Her ruined mouth slowly moved to speak, yet her voice had been lost in the screams of days and hours before. _

"_Don't speak Daphne…I'll get you out of here, I promise." He whispered, reaching for her through the bars. "I always follow through when I promise something, don't I?" Heavily leaning against the bars, he slid to the floor, hysteria playing through his voice. "Just like when I promised you Potter wouldn't win every Quidditch match! I dressed up like a Dementor in third year to make sure he would loose…just to help keep that promise to you. I mean, I know that dressing like a Dementor didn't work, but I still kept my promise didn't I? Don't make me break this one, Daphne."_

_Green eyes closed as a painful smile danced upon her battered face. Looking at him fondly, she slowly mouthed her words to him. _

_Silver eyes widened before hesitant resignation appeared within their satin depths. Stiffly standing, he stood straight and gazed levelly at the girl before him. A deep breath was slowly released as he brought his hand to his wand. He eyes searched her, memorizing every bruise, every break of skin, every painful mark that dressed his childhood friend. Giving a soft smile, he nodded and whispered. "I promised you…" Slender fingers withdrew the smooth white wand. "And I always keep my promises."_

_The green of her eyes filled the room, wrapping him in cold comfort._

"_Fly away and be free, Daphne." He whispered before turning, the hard sole of his shoes echoing in the dark passageway as he made his way back to the laughing crimson eyes that had driven him to the point of no return._

Shaken from his memory, Draco pushed away from his friend. Silver eyes shut down, the shields that had allowed such exposure forcibly in place once more. "Nothing," he replied harshly. "I saw nothing."

Standing stiffly, Blaise turned and walked from the infirmary, his silent exit marked only by the sound of the doors as they slammed closed behind him.

And on his small bed, Draco Malfoy laid down mechanically, pulling the stiff sheets over his body, clutching them tightly, all the while wishing that the warmth he had once felt so freely would return.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters, names, and related indicia are trademarks of and © Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. Harry Potter Publishing rights © J.K. Rowling.

**ooOoOoo**

**..::Draconis Sanguen::..**

Chapter 7

Long and slender, perfectly smooth without a single blemish, the strange white material seemed to glow so differently from the roughly handled darkness of his own wand. Holding the two wands into the air, he stared as sunlight silhouetted the two magical items. With a sigh, Harry dropped his arms over his eyes, the wands dropping carelessly onto the scarlet sheets.

Having seen Malfoy's wand abandoned on the floor of the Great Hall, Harry had placed the object in his pocket without thought before leaving for the Headmaster's office. The wand that had taunted him in battle now lay within his grasp, while the master of the wand lay in the infirmary under Harry's own influence.

Shame flooded the Gryffindor as Malfoy's dead eyes haunted his vision. The same hoary eyes that had challenged and pushed him to prove himself as a great wizard, sparking with life, had been dead to the world, filled with anguish. Yet, beyond the regret and shame his actions had caused him, Harry could not help but feel a strange sense of compassion and understanding for his Slytherin rival. He knew that only the darkest of memories could cause such a ghostly expression to break the icy façade that had been carried with pride and distain. As the famed 'Boy-who-lived', Harry Potter had enough of his own dark memories and painful experiences to last him a lifetime.

Rolling to his side, he pulled the white wand back to him and gently traced his fingers over the silver threads that adorned the material. Closing his eyes, he attempted to force himself to conjure his own worst memory. Yet, only the image of Sirius turning his canine back and trotting to Malfoy played within his head. The smirk that had haunted his dreams blossomed on the aristocrat's face as his eyes twinkled at the victory, while dark brown pleaded for understanding.

Flinging the damned wand across the room angrily, Harry glared as it slid across the carpet, coming to rest beneath Neville's bed. Crossing his arms across his chest, Harry glared at the unseen item.

"Harry?" A soft voice called through the door. A familiar face appeared as Hermione slid into the room, slowly closing the door to the seventh year Gryffindor male dormitory behind her. Making her way to the only occupied bed in the room, she gently sat upon the mattress and calmly gazed at her best friend, patiently awaiting the explosion she knew was eminent.

Gryffindor tower was silent. After the exciting breakfast, Hermione had proceeded to classes, all the while searching for the familiar mussed dark hair of her famous friend to appear within one of their shared doorways. Once NEWT level Transfiguration had been released, Hermione had hurried back to Gryffindor tower in hopes of speaking with the conflicted boy before the rest of his roommates were able to cloud his mind with praise.

Tiring of watching him glare at nothing, holding in anger that would be better released, she edged Harry along. "Well?" She questioned impatiently, glancing at her watch.

"Well what?" He responded shortly.

"Advanced Magicks begins in less than an hour and, frankly, I would like to get there early for a good seat so if you want to scream about how horribly rotten Malfoy is and how much he deserved the _Malus Memoria_ Curse and how you don't feel sorry for the miserable ferret in the least, I'm waiting. Just keep in mind you have thirty minutes before I walk out this door, whether you are coming to class with me or not." Light brown eyes pierced emerald green smartly.

The humor that bubbled within him at the girl's priorities chased away the storm of anger that had darkened his eyes. "You would go to class, even if I were lying here bleeding to death." He stated dryly.

"How else am I supposed to learn how to keep you alive? Besides, if you really were bleeding so terribly, I already know how to heal you so your statement is as pointless as it is ridiculous." Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

Propping himself on his side, a lopsided smile upon his face, Harry gazed at his long time friend fondly. "Of course it's ridiculous, we would only be in trouble if something truly serious happened, like if Aragog attacked the castle and I was injured. You would be far too busy protecting your precious boyfriend to save me." He said with an exaggerated wink.

Swatting at the boy's arm, she smiled back, happy to see him smiling once more. The pressure of their world's expectation was far too much for one person to shoulder alone. She and Ron had sworn to help him hold the world up, but it seemed that even they could not help hold such a weight. "So, what did the Headmaster have to say?" She asked cautiously, knowing that such subjects could cause unexpected emotional outbursts from her friend.

Laying his head upon his arm, Harry sighed. "What does Dumbledore usually have to say? He offered me a lemon drop, which I tell you has Veritaserum in it, and proceeded to give me the updates on the Order's most recent movements against Voldemort. Jones is still with the seer in Austria. There has been no success in finding a seer that can confirm or deny the Prophesy, nor one that can speak of anything about the war. The ministry is acting as cooperative as they can be, after all, it is the ministry. Aurors are being retrained and tested, ranked and prepared for a true war. Unspeakables are currently, well, doing unspeakable things." He said with a slight grin. "All I can say is something about creating spells and searching for Voldemort's hold. Hit wizards are on standby. Otherwise, no real updates. In fact, Malfoy's return is news to everyone."

Light brown eyes, glazed over by the report of predictable updates had jumped to attention. "What do you mean, Harry? Someone had to know where Malfoy was or that he was returning. I thought there was a trace on him or on his magic signature at least."

Shaking his head humorlessly, Harry tonelessly replied. "Dumbledore only knew he was coming back the day before school started back up. All attempts to trace his signature failed. You know how we have that map table with each person's signature being traced with a little ball of light?" He questioned, ignoring Hermione's annoyed expression toward his uncomplicated explanation for the complex spell work and ingenuity that created the Order's mapping trace. "Well when we attempted to add Malfoy to it, his light flared and then all of the lights on the board went out. We had to retrace everyone on the board after that. When we tried to add Malfoy again, the same thing happened. After three attempts, we were so tired of retracing others that we gave up."

"Anyways, Dumbledore gave me a little speech about how Malfoy may have acted like a prat, but I should mend fences, build brides and such. From what I can tell, he either thinks that Malfoy is on the fence between sides in the War and wants him on ours, or thinks that Malfoy can be converted to our side." Running a hand through his thick locks, Harry sighed heavily. "Dumbledore is just so damn optimistic. Malfoy was raised by a Death Eater, to be a Death Eater, with all of the morals and beliefs of a Deatheater. He has never shown any redeeming qualities."

Playing with the bed sheets that lay in disarray, she spoke softly, her words edged with worry. "If Dumbledore thinks he can be redeemed, there may be a chance, Harry. I know you don't trust him." Chuckling humorouslessly she amended her statement. "I know you don't trust either of them. Dumbledore is known to only show one or two cards before he's ready for us to know his full hand, and even then, there is a whole deck up his sleeve. It could be anything from a set up for us to uncover something great, to make us stronger, or to truly bring him over. We both know that Dumbledore covets power, and, even though we may never say it, Malfoy is powerful. He'd be a powerful ally. He has the knowledge we could very well need; he could be better than any spy." Brown met green softly. "Beyond the simple fact that he seems to be a living Imperius with the affect he has on those around him, despite everything he stands for, even you have admitted that he has _power_."

Harry slowly sat up and covered his friend's hand. "I know, Hermione. I remember what it was to realize that Dumbledore wanted me for power. And, trust me, the past two years has been very good to Malfoy. He is even more powerful. Power begets power. But 'Mione, Tom Riddle was powerful too. If it weren't for you and Ron and the Weasleys and everything I have here, I could have easily found myself in Voldemort's position. Malfoy…he is in that position, isn't he?"

Hermione smiled, her eyes glimmering in the dim light of the dormitory. "Every time I think you've grown up, you get a little older when I'm not looking, Harry. Were we ever children?"

"I seem to remember a trio of Gryffindors making mischief and fighting with evil Slytherins in the hallways, serving detentions and fighting trolls together." He replied with a smile.

Laughing, the two embraced. The door to Gryffindor tower opened softly as a red head peered in and grinned at the two seventh years. "Hey now mate, no stealing my girl."

Harry laughed as Hermione pushed away to swat at the nearing Prefect. Watching the two playful teenagers, Harry could almost see the same eleven year old boy calling a bushy haired girl a 'know-it-all', sending her to cry for a day and heading the trio into their first adventure, beginning what would be a lifetime of memories.

It was Hermione's serious eyes that forced him back to current time. "So, what are you going to do?"

Harry stood, walking towards the window, gazing out over the landscape that had become so familiar, become home to him. "Even without knowing about the Prophesy, the entire Wizarding world expects me to be their savior, simply because my mother was able to prevent the Killing Curse from succeeding. She couldn't save herself, but she saved me. Voldemort killed my mother, my father, destroyed my life before I even knew it existed. Every time I have fought Voldemort, it was never the expectation of this world or revenge for myself that caused me to fight back. I remember when I first saw my parents through the cold touch of the Mirror of Erised when I was eleven and when I first heard my mother's voice, screams in death, when I was thirteen. I fight Voldemort for what he did to my parents, for what he does to families everywhere, not because some prophesy says that I am the only one that has the chance to destroy him."

Turning back to his friends, he regarded them carefully, his eyes gauging their reaction as he questioned. "How am I supposed to ask Malfoy to fight with us, against Voldemort, when it was us that killed his mother?"

**ooOoOoo**

Sapphire eyes peered into the dim infirmary, searching for the achingly familiar form of his fellow Slytherin. Seeing only one bed occupied, silent feet made their way to the still form that lay curled beneath the thin white sheet. A hesitant hand reached to prod the unmoving form before shying away as the body stirred. Hoary eyes sleepily peered through charcoal lashes to see the painfully thin silhouette of his charge hovering carefully out of his reach.

Pushing sleep from his thoughts, Draco blinked and slowly sat up in the small bed. Hands raked through moon-kissed locks before rubbing sleepy eyes and covering the yawn that sought to escape his mouth. All the while, the patiently waiting Slytherin remained in the safety of the shadows for the familiar gesture of his house patron. A slight nod and smoothing of the rough cotton sheets in the small space of the infirmary bed was all it took to have the frail form seated on the bed next to the Slytherin's Ice Prince.

"Sorry," Theodore Nott softly said as large dark blue eyes, glazed over with lack of sleep, blinked. Intertwining his hands within the white material of the sheets, the small Slytherin averted his eyes from the searching gaze of his protector.

Sighing, Draco dropped back onto the bed. "S'kay." He said his voice rough with sleep. "Nightmares 'gain, pet?"

Theodore cautiously laid back, curling up against Draco's strength, relaxing in his warmth. Shaking his head slowly, he peered up at light haired boy. Reaching out, he flicked a pale strand of hair from his protector's face before curling back up against his chest. "Fight'n, 'Co."

Puzzled, Draco stroked the frailer boy's ebony locks. "About me?" He asked, more awake with every word.

"Yeah." Theodore sighed.

"Yeah." Draco replied painfully, his chin placed protectively on the boy's head, cradling the smaller body to his own.

Hands clutched to cloth as sleepy words escaped the boy's child-like mouth. "N'matter wha', I'm on 'r side, 'Co."

A bitter look passed over Draco's face as he pat the boy's back, arms encircling the precious gem of the Slytherin house like a dragon intent on protecting his horde.

**ooOoOoo**

Fists roughly connected with the harsh stone walls as tanzanite orbs flared angrily, the fire of the Slytherin common room flaring in response, lighting the room more intensely with its green flames. Ignoring the blood that dripped from his tightly clenched fists, staining the pale rug beneath him with droplets of sanguine liquid, Blaise turned to face the Slytherin Council.

Elegantly sprawled upon the dark leather furniture as only the wealthy can, the seventh year Slytherins watched the emotional display of their leader in absentia dispassionately. Behind their detached facades, worry laced their cores. The stabilizing unit of their social platform was crumbling, leaving each of them in a precarious position if it were to fall.

Curious, more than frightened by Blaise's temperamental reaction to the unknown, Pansy displaced the tiny white kitten that had taken up residence on her lap. Handing the sleepy creature to Tracy Davis, she stood and crossed her arms over her chest, her cerulean eyes darkening with impatience and defiance as she stared at their interim leader. "So," she led off smartly, forcing him to look back at her. "Will you be telling the rest of us just what has you so angry or will we be forced to play that muggle game of twenty questions Pritchard has become so fond of?"

A dangerous glare was the simple response as Blaise continued to stand by the fire, his mind playing the events that had occurred in the Infirmary over and over again. Draco had shut him out. His best friend had looked him in the eye and truly lied to him, for what Blaise could only see as the first time.

_Silver eyes, lost in a world unseen, gazed blindly at the Infirmary walls. Tremors shook the thin boy's frame as laid, unmoving. Lips, pale and cold to the touch, moved to a nearly unseen, but so familiar pattern. 'Advada Kadevra.'_

"Well, obviously you are angry. Usually I would suggest a Gryffindor, especially after today, but even you were not this enraged after Potter's display this morning. Worried, yes. Angry, of course. But not to the point of destruction, especially in front of witnesses." Pansy coldly critiqued.

"I suppose it is a good thing the younger years were already sent to bed." Tracey said tonelessly as she gazed down at the sleeping kitten.

Running her eyes over the boy she had known for so very long, Pansy noted the far away look in his eyes and the stiffness of his stance. "I have only bore witness to one such tantrum of yours, Blaise. I quite fondly remember the destruction you wreaked upon your father's library when Lucius corresponded to your father that Draco would not be able to entertain you that day. What was the name of the boy he was forced to play with instead?"

_Shaken, Draco pushed away from him. Before he could reach for his long time friend, he could only watch as silver eyes darkened, careful shields clamping forcefully over the emotion that had been so visible only moments before. "Nothing," Draco stated harshly. "I saw nothing."_

From her own seat, Millicent smirked conspiratorially. "The son of the Norweign Diplomat you mean?" Pansy nodded gleefully. "I remember that as well. He nearly burned the whole wing down just because Draco was unable to play with him that day."

"Jealousy," Pansy sneered, "is a very unflattering characteristic, Blaise. Simply because Draco is spending his time away from Slytherin, does not mean he does not care. I hardly believe Draco exactly planned to spend his first day back in the infirmary." Dark eyes narrowed. "So if you are going to get angry, direct that anger towards Potter and the rest of Gryffindor, where it belongs, rather than here at your fellow Slytherins." She spat.

Tanzanite orbs strayed from the flames and locked with fiery blue. Simple words formed and left his lips, stunning the room to silence.

_Leaning against the infirmary door, he brought his hands over his shoulder, the silken material still warm from the body that had been comforted on his shoulder just moments ago. Frowning, he peered at his shoulder where his hand sought to brush away the tears Draco would never lay claim to._

"He lied."

'_Advada Kadevra.'_

**ooOoOoo**

Clumsily, Neville made his way through the silent dormitory. While other Gryffindors had been at Advanced Magicks, he had been in the library, scouring the shelves for new texts on Herbology. The volumes that Professor Sprout had loaned him over the summer lay beside his bed, awaiting the return to their owner as he had finished reading them early in the vacation.

Tripping over the corner of the rug, he fought to keep his balance; the stack of volumes in his arm trembled precariously. Regaining his footing successfully, Neville breathed a sigh of relief. Placing the pile of texts on his bed, he scowled as his good luck was diminished as the top book fell to the floor. After pushing the remaining books further back on the bed in order to prevent more falling to the ground, he knelt to pick up that which had fallen.

Curious chocolate eyes caught sight of pearly white, hidden by the shadows of his bed. Pushing the Herbology text away from the darkness beneath his bed, he stretched for the object that had gained his attention. Unable to reach it, he removed his wand from his pocket.

"_Accio,_" he said forcefully.

The summoned object flew from its place on the floor and into his hand. With a proud grin, Neville placed his wand back in his pocket and hummed as he stood before turning his attention to what he now held in hand. Eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement as he stared at the glimmering white wand, whose surface was now smudged by fingerprints and dust. The silver swirls and ivory frame captivated Neville as his fingers traced over the complex runes that were so deeply ingrained into its perfect form.

Removing his own wand polishing kit, he carefully cleaned the magical instrument. Making sure not to leave a smudge of his own, he wrapped the wand in a handkerchief and placed it beneath his pillow. The wand was not unfamiliar to him; he had been in the Great Hall, watching as his fellow Gryffindor had engaged in a duel with Draco Malfoy. He had seen the very wand he now hoarded beneath his pillow in the capable hands of his old Slytherin tormentor.

Settling himself on the bed, his back against the pillow, he chose a book from amongst the many and opened the leather bound volume carefully. Slowly, he lost himself within the text, escaping from world and its complexities, forgetting St. Mugo's and his parents, Voldemort and the War. Yet, a tingling sensation at his back dutifully reminded him of his hidden treasure, urging him to return it to the only hand it had deemed appropriate to wield it.

**ooOoOoo**

Those broken eyes haunted him. Sighing, he leaned against the balcony rails, a simple cigarette dangling from his lips. A rainbow of haunted eyes would forever mark his days and nights. Browns and greens dead to the world, captured in fear and horror. Lunar gold broken with betrayal, while emerald fire silently died with disappointment. And hauntingly ethereal silver forever shattered, each shard a reflection of nothingness.

Glancing over his shoulder, Sirius Black stared at the sleeping forms of Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Guilt overwhelmed him as he watched his blonde charge's face twist with emotion; yet, as Theodore's fingers twined in the young man's long locks, his forehead pressing tighter to his chest, Draco's face smoothed out, his own arms tightening around the younger Slytherin.

Turning away from the slumbering students, Sirius took in the rush of nicotine and removed the thin stick of tobacco, allowing it to dangle from his fingers loosely. Exhaling the smoke slowly, he watched the cloud drift through the September air.

Instead, he turned his thoughts to the situation at hand. The duel had been, on one hand, unexpected, but in a completely other manner, he had been waiting for an explosion of some kind. He knew that, despite Harry's dismissal, his godson had been hurt by his absence and inattention. This morning had simply been one outlet of that anger.

Draco Malfoy.

How many times had he heard that name, or seen it scrawled hastily on parchment, as Harry detailed his life at Hogwarts to him? The constant tales of rivalry and the history of dispute, how could he have expected it to end now? He had never thought to ask Draco to stop, not even to calm down. He had simply thought he would bridge the gap, that his relationship with the two teenagers would end the rivalry. He had never counted on their twin possessive natures and pride.

Harry did not even know that Draco knew his true identity. Harry merely saw his godfather, back from a near two-year absence, choosing his rival over their bond, a bond he had only known to exist for little more than three years. Three years, in which, he had been in hiding to avoid Azkaban.

Closing his eyes in defeat, he took one last drag from his cigarette dropping it onto the ground and grinding it with his heel. The situation was so complicated. He felt as though he was being forced to choose, his godson or his cousin, both he felt some duty for, both he cared for and both who cared for him. Were he to choose...

The sound of door hinges in the infirmary brought the convict from his contemplations and, on instinct, he melted into the shadows and changed to his canine form. Reentering the infirmary, he watched as Madame Pomfrey stopped to frown at the sleeping pair of boys before proceeding to check on her patient.

Ignoring the smaller Slytherin, she ran through a series of spells before nodding in satisfaction. As she turned to leave, a dark blur of fur bound onto the bed, startling her. A disapproving frown appeared as she clicked her tongue at the dog's appearance. "Well, you certainly do not belong in here." She muttered quietly as she moved to take hold of the canine's thick fur and remove him from the infirmary.

Aristocratic hands twined in the black fur of his companion at the familiar weight upon the bed, battling the mediwitch's resolve to remove the creature. Feeling the pull against his fingers, Draco murmured in protest, tightening his told.

Madame Pomfrey's frown softened at the boy's actions. "Alright then, but out with you in the morning."

Lying down, Sirius watched as the witch left the infirmary. Closing his eyes, he lost himself in the sensation of Draco's fingers grasping his fur. The familiar presence was reassuring to both as the blonde's fingers unconsciously twirled the strands of fur. Relaxing, Sirius slowly slipped into sleep, his breathing evened out as he completely forgot about duty and life's complications.

For the brief hours before dawn, he could feel fresh air of his travels and the freedom he had been so briefly afforded. In his dreams, there were no worries, only laughter. In sleep, he had found a place where broken eyes had been healed, reflecting whole souls once more.

**ooOoOoo**

Staring at the ageing wooden door to the dungeon classroom, Draco took a deep calming breath, slowly exhaling as he reached for the handle. Pushing the door open, he stared straight ahead, ignoring the room full of eyes that had turned towards him, watching as he made his way to the front of the classroom. After handing a slip of parchment to his godfather, he took a seat at the vacant station, front row center to Snape's lecture podium.

With a nod of acknowledgement towards the blonde Slytherin, Severus Snape continued the first N.E.W.T.S. Potions lecture of the year.

"Unlike previous years in this classroom, the potions you brew will not originate from directions within your text or upon the board. This is a NEWTS level class and the expectations are beyond that of any other NEWTS level course you will take. The past six years will be brought to life for you and you alone. On your first day in this classroom, I told you I would teach you to brew fame, bottle glory, and put a stopper in death. Now is the time that you learn the true meaning of those words."

Gazing about the room, he took in the faces of students from all four houses of Hogwarts. "I expect that, as seventh years, there will be no interruptions and no horseplay. All work is to be completed on time with the level of comprehension and effort required from any other N.E.W.T.S. course. Now, shall we see who is prepared and has read their summer assignments?"

Obsidian eyes narrowed on one dozing figure in particular. With a flick of his wand, the glass inkpot in front of Harry Potter exploded, the ink and glass shards disappearing as the sound snapped all attention to the smirking professor. "Mr. Potter," Snape sneered, "describe the fundamental differences between _somnus _and _sopor _potions in both the brewing method as well as the ingredients, and be sure to explain why these differences in potion preparation exist."

**ooOoOoo**

Carefully, Draco tied the thin green strings around the roll of parchment and stowed his Potions notes in one of many parchment tubes in his messenger bag. Running a hand through his hair, he got up from his seat and made his way from the empty room. As he made his way through the door, he glanced back and quietly bid farewell to his Head of House, receiving a small smile in return.

He had not been in Slytherin territory since his first night back, unsure of his welcome since his argument with Blaise the night before. He knew, however, he had to resolve things with his friend before the entire house fell to the consequences of a broken leadership.

A hand falling upon his shoulder stirred him from his reverie. Turning, his hand going to the small inner pocket of his custom made Italian robes. Eyes widened as his fingers found nothing more than silk, he found himself staring into familiar tanzanite orbs. A sign of relief escaped his lips, which twitched into an apologetic smile. "Blaise."

Nodding, the other Slytherin raked a hand through his dark curls before bringing his fingers to massage a temple. "Look Draco, we need to talk." He stated abruptly.

Glancing around, finding the hallway empty, he nodded. "Here or..."

Impatiently Blaise interrupted. "Here's fine. Everyone else is either in the common room or class. When is your next class?"

"N.E.W.T.S. History of Magic after lunch." Draco stated tersely.

Conjuring a bench in an alcove of the hallway, Blaise turned from his friend, hiding his eyes from the blonde. "Take a seat."

The pair sat together in silence, listening as the footsteps of the students of Hogwarts echoed through the corridor. Shaking his head, Blaise turned to the young Lord. "I suppose the first question should be 'are you feeling any better,' but frankly I don't give a shit. A better question right now is whether or not you still have a desire to continue with our plans."

Draco's head jerked up, his silver eyes wide at Blaise's harsh words. Angrily, he pushed himself out of his seat. Pacing back and forth in front of the dark haired Slytherin, he growled out his words. "You expect, after three years of endless strategizing, three years of striving to convince not just you, but every Slytherin that walks these halls to join us in the endeavor, three years of working my arse off for you not even knowing if I would ever see you again, that I would want to simply abandon it all." Turning his back to his housemate, he stared at the wall. "After denying you the _pleasure_ of my nightmare, you believe I am a traitor, not just to a cause, but to Slytherin?"

A hand weakly reached out, falling limply, as heliotrope eyes softened, the anger and betrayal evaporating from the Slytherin's frame. Slouching in his seat, Blaise sighed. "I did not mean to sound as though you were a traitor. I know you would never betray us. I-"

"You were worried. And frightened out of your mind." Shaking his head humorlessly, he turned back to his best friend. "I know, Blaise. We haven't been friends for this long for nothing. Let me guess, you went back to the common room and stewed in your anger by the fire until you exploded, causing an argument to break out in the common room. Thereafter you proceeded to drink yourself into a stupor, putting a rather large dent in the Slytherin stash. Waking up this morning, you, of course, had no hangover potion and refused to face Professor Snape. You know I keep plenty of the potions on hand, but my wards do not allow anyone to be in my room without me present, with the exception of Pansy, who would have refused to provide her assistance after the fact. Most likely, she spoke rather loudly in your direction all morning, pushed food in your face, all to aggravate your hangover."

Blaise gaped at him. "How did you know all of that?"

Smiling, Draco picked up Blaise's injured hand. "Fireplace right? I know you all too well and Pansy is rather predictable." Sitting back down, he turned to his long time friend and brushed a curl from his eyes. "I know it's been a damn long time since we had to do this Blaise," hoary eyes shined in the dim lights of the dungeon corridor, "but I can not, no, I will not answer to your demands like everyone else. If I feel the need to keep something from you, I will. I am the one who protects you, you and every other Slytherin. The fact that you are my dearest friend does not entitle you to my every thought, my every memory. I am not a child, do not coddle me. When I am ready, Blaise, and only when I am ready, I will tell you."

Turning away, he massaged his temple. "I will tell you everything Blaise, just wait."

Wrapping an arm around Draco's waist, Blaise rested his head on the blonde's shoulder. "When you're ready."

The two sat in silence, absorbing the presence of one another. The anger and tension had drained from their bodies, leaving comfortable familiarity. Smiling, Draco blew the stray curls from his face, laughing lightly as Blaise tightened his grip. "Alright then, let's get you a potion. I would like to attend my afternoon classes without you wrapped around me like a cheap fur coat. I assume you can make it back to the common room with me?"

Grinning, Blaise wrapped his other arm around Draco's waist, hugging to the blonde Slytherin. Looking up, he bat his eyes coyly. "Maybe if you carried me..." The two boys began laughed as they stood and turned to begin their trek back to Slytherin territory.

Making their way through the hallways, Draco felt as though the two years in Venice were nothing. Approaching the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Draco admired the latest feature in Slytherin security. A marble snake lay in coils at the common room entrance. By sliding a wand into the small slot the snake encircled, the magical signature of a wand could be read, and the door would open. However, if that magical signature had not been approved for entrance into Slytherin territory, the house would be alerted. Smirking at the ingenuity, Draco reached into his robes for his own wand. Finding the slim, special made pocket empty, he was once again reminded of his earlier reaction when Blaise had startled him. Eyes narrowed in concentration, fighting panic, he tried to remember where he had last held his wand.

Grabbing hold of Blaise's wrist, he faced his friend. "Did you retrieve my wand from the floor of the Great Hall after I lost consciousness?"

Eyes widened, taking in the ashen pallor of the blonde's face and the tremors in his hands. "I don't have your wand, Draco. I transported you to the hospital wing as soon as you fell. I assumed Professor Snape picked it up and delivered it to you personally in the infirmary."

Desperation surged through him at the thought of loosing his wand. The familiar white surface called to him even now, his fingers aching for the familiar safety he found within its warmth.

**ooOoOoo**

Frantically pushing back the thick duvet, emerald green eyes searched endless sea of crimson and gold. Roughly, he pulled the material from its resting place on his bed and flung it to the floor. Unable to find the object of his desire among the bed clothing, Harry dropped to the floor and searched the dark space beneath his bed. Sighing, he pulled his head from the floor. Surrounded by the colors of Griffindor, he rest his head back upon the bed and sighed.

Blue eyes twinkled with humor as he watched his friend's mad search. Shaking his head, Ron knelt beside Harry and placed a hand upon the dejected brunette's shoulder. "Didn't find it mate?"

Harry groaned dejectedly and shook his head in the negative.

"Well, maybe his wand found him. That can happen, you know. Mum swore up and down she lost her wand once. Left it at some muggle shop when she was helping Dad hunt down some flying carpets, she did. She spent two days looking for it. Then, one day out of the blue, she found it in her pocket. 'Course, that was only after we went two days on Dad's cooking. Good thing she found it too. We would have starved to death if Dad cooked everyday."

"I bet your Mum would have been just fine if she cooked the muggle way."

Ron's eyes widened dramatically. "Without spells? Mum went near crazy without her wand for two days. If she had to cook without her wand, it would be a disaster. Believe me, Harry. It just can't be done."

Laughing, Harry stood up. "You really think Malfoy's wand is back with Malfoy?"

"Sure," Ron stated, his head bobbing emphatically. "Magic calls to magic. If Malfoy bonded with his wand, it won't stay away from him for long. It really ought to smarten up. Why would anything ever want to be close to Malfoy?"

With a grin, Harry tossed the covers onto the bed and marched towards the door. "If all the food left in the world was at the table with Malfoy, even you would sit down."

"Nah," Ron yelled to his retreating friend. "I wouldn't be dumb enough to loose my wand. I'd just conjure up my own table of food."

**ooOoOoo**

"Fuck," Draco said as he dropped his head upon the table in the Great Hall.

Chuckling, Blaise gracefully fell into his own seat next to Draco. "It was not as horrible as you are making it to be."

A groan was the only response he received as he nodded to the other Slytherin's around the table. A sly grin played upon his face as he leaned towards the Slytherin leader. "What would your mother say if she were to see you slouched over a table in public."

"She would say it was well deserved after the hell I was just put through." Draco responded flatly.

With a snort, Pansy leaned into the conversation, her voice a high falsetto. "My little Draco has turned into a common muggle. All of those lessons wasted, all that time to make him into a gentlemen ruined." Clearing her throat, she flashed a roughish grin. "I believe that is a bit more Lady Malfoy's style."

Sitting up, Draco smiled one of those rare and true smiles and shook his head. "I agree. That is nearly the exact lecture I would receive."

"And then your dad would have to chime in as well, 'Co." Theodore softly added.

"Sit up boy. Do not worry your mother with your plebian ways. Act like the pureblood you are instead of some mudblood street boy." Crabbe and Goyle added en tandem.

"Yes, sir." Draco said stiffly, forcing the smile from his face as he corrected his posture. "Is this better sir?"

"Don't slouch. Posture is the key. Square your shoulders, you look positively _American_." Pansy demanded in a high octave. Grinning, she reached and straightened Draco's back sharply. "Better, but we have much more to do."

The seventh year Slytherins laughed loudly. "Merlin I remember that woman. Of all etiquette instructors, she had to have been the worst." Draco stated through the laughter.

Smiling, the Slytherin ignored the stares of the other Houses, reaching for the meal before them instead. As he reached for the roast, Draco glanced at the Gryffindor table across the hall, finding a pair of green eyes watching him intently. Narrowing his eyes, he cast his infamous 'Malfoy smirk' in Harry's direction before turning back to his housemates.

"Back to my earlier complaint, defense can not be performed without a wand." Pointing his fork at his friend, he continued. "If I had been able to go to class yesterday, I might have known we were doing wand work. Besides, it's not my fault I don't have my wand. The werewolf could have been a bit more lenient. Three degrees of shielding simply can not be done wandless."

"Potter can do all ten degrees of shielding wandless." Tracey Davis interrupted. "He can perform nearly any spell without the aid of his wand."

Silver eyes widened as he turned to his fellow seventh year. "How did you come by this information? I was never made aware of this."

"Auror training sparked his abilities. He's been doing wandless spells in class in order to practice control. I had assumed you were already aware. After all, no one ever attempted to hide it."

"Dumbledore's orders," Pansy injected sharply. "The Gryffindor Patil overheard the Golden Trio talking about it in the common room."

"If information is laid before you as common knowledge rather than conjecture, there is no secret to be valued." Blaise stated blandly.

"Of course," Tracey pointed out. "If everyone knows he can perform spells wandlessly, we automatically assume the knowledge has no value. Why waste time telling a fact that every student in Hogwarts is aware of to the public?"

"Or Voldemort for that matter," Pansy added. "If the newspapers are silent and the students believe he already knows, then what we view as common knowledge is actually a secret shared by all."

Running a hand through his hair, Draco shook his head in disbelief. "How very clever." Draco stated as he picked up his fork and pushed at the food on the plate. Unheard knowledge passed through his lips as he voiced the truth that weighed upon his heart.

"Too bad he already knows."


End file.
